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MY HOLIDAY; 



HOW I SPENT IT: 



BEING SOME BOUGH NOTES OF A TRIP 
TO EUROPE AND BACK, 

IN THE SUMMER OF 1866. 



BY 

JAMES N7MATTHEWS. 

BUFFALO: 

MARTIN TAYLOR, PUBLISHER. 

NEW YORK: 

HURD & HOUGHTON. 

1867. 






Entered according to Act of Congress, in the year 1867, 

BY JAMES N. MATTHEWS, 

In the Clerk's Office of the District Court of the United States for 
the Northern District of New York. 



PRINTED BY MATTHEWS & WARREN, 
BUFFALO, N. Y. 



tf 






TO 



JULIUS MOVIUS, Esq., 
WL frtentr of wang Trags, 

THIS LITTLE BOOK IS RESPECTFULLY DEDICATED, AS A 

MARK OF THE AFFECTIONATE REGARD 

IN WHICH HE IS HELD BY 



THE AUTHOR. 



PREFACE. 



The greater portion of the following pages were 
printed as " JEditorial Correspondence " in a daily 
newspaper, the Buffalo Commercial Advertiser. 
The considerations that led to their publication ori- 
ginally are set doion at the beginning of the first 
letter. When it is added that similar reasons have 
induced the writer to gather them up, correct, add 
to, and put them out in this shape, critics will 
learn (should the poor little booh, indeed, fall into 
the hands of any such august personages) that no 
attempt to cheat the great reading public is intend- 
ed, and all is said, then, that need be said in the 
way of preface* 



CONTENTS. 



I. 

Page 
A Personal Explanation. — Leaving New York. — The 
Voyage. — Arrival at Bremen, and a few hours spent 
there. — An Incident at the Custom-house. — The Jour- 
ney by Rail to Dresden, and what happened on the 
way 13 

II. 

Dresden. — The War, and what an American thought 
about it. — Commencement of Hostilities. — Evacua- 
tion of the City by the Saxons. — King John's Proc- 
lamation. — The Prussians expected. — Shut up in 
Dresden 25 



III 

Occupation of Dresden by the Prussians. — The Austrians 
expected. — Alarming Rumors. — Flight of the Tour- 
ists. — Difficulties of getting away, and how they were 
overcome. — Arrival at Berlin. — Sight-seeing there 
and thereabouts. — " Greenbacks are good." .... 33 



x. Contents. 

IV. 

Page. 
Sight-seeing in Berlin. — The Royal Stables. — The Great 
Palace. — The Exchange. — Potsdam and its Sights. — 
Cologne, and the Journey thither. — The Cathedral. — 
Old Stories, Old Churches and Old Smells. — The 
Rhine. — An Incident. — The War and Rumors of 
War 47 



Last Words about Cologne. — The " Service" Nuisance. — 
A Trip up the Rhine and a Rapid Glance at some of its 
Famous Places. — Wiesbaden, its Waters and its Hell. 
— Frankfort and Homburg. — The War Excitement. — 
Arrival at Heidelberg 61 



VI. 

Heidelberg, its Traditions, its Castle and its Quarrelsome 
Students. — A Poor Scholar. — Strasburg, its Cathedral 
and the Wonderful Clock. — A Brief Trip in Switzer- 
land, and some Briefer Notes about it. — The Alps. . 76 



VII 

The Route from Berne to Geneva. — The Lake of Geneva. 
— Some Notes about the Swiss Metropolis. — First en- 
counter with French, and perplexity thereat. — Arrival 
at Paris. — A week of Sight-seeing in the gay City. — 
Speculations about the German Difficulty. — The At- 
lantic Cable 95 



Contents. xi. 

VIII. 

Page. 
A Tribute to the Weather. — A Day at Fontainebleau. — 
Shopping Experiences. — Wanderings in Pere Lachaise. 
—Visit to the Gobelins Tapestry Manufactory. — An 
Artist's Revenge. — Last Days in Paris. — Hurried 
Sight-seeing 113 

IX. 

Horrors of Crossing the Channel. — Vain Confidence and 
what came of it. — Sufferings from Sea-sickness. — The 
Route from Paris to Dieppe, thence to Newhaven. — 
England at last. — Rural Scenery of England compared 
with that of the Continent. — London. — A week of 
Sight-seeing, including visits to Parks, Picture Galle- 
ries, the Crystal Palace, Theatres, the Tower, etc. . . 132 



X. 

London. — Difficulties in the Writer's way. — A visit to 
St. Paul's and some Reflections upon the Money-chang- 
ers in that Temple. — A gossip with the Old Lady of 
Threadneedle Street. — Madame Tussaud's Wax- work 
Show. — The Zoological Gardens. — Street Sights. — A 
Digression 152 

XL 

Something more about the Sights of London. — The Pal- 
ace of Sydenham, and a Grand Concert therein. — A 
Trip to Richmond, and a Dinner at the Star and Gar- 
ter. — A Ramble in Kew Gardens. — Visits to Lambeth 



14 Rough Notes of a Trip 

scenes and sights, that they have become a drug in 
the editorial market ; and as I was not going to tread 
any unfrequented paths, I could not hope to vary 
their monotony. I stated these objections so plainly 
that I am sure you have not expected to hear from 
me, except in brief private notes, and I can readily 
imagine that you will experience a sensation — of as- 
tonishment certainly, and of pleasure I hope — when 
you recognize the cross, crabbed hand of your vener- 
able collaborateur in such a lengthy epistle as this is 
likely to turn out. But if you attribute this compli- 
ance with your request to any unselfish motives, you 
will be mistaken, and I must hasten to undeceive you, 
lest you should give me more credit than I deserve. 
Know then that the chief inducement which prompts 
me to write this letter, and which will prompt me to 
write others if others should follow this, is to save 
myself trouble. Strange as this assertion may sound, 
it is easily explained. I have now been in Europe a 
week, and it is time that I should write some letters 
to private friends, if not to readers of the Commer- 
cial, I cannot write to all who asked me to do so, 
nor even to those whom I would most desire to 
please ; but it has occurred to me that by availing 
myself of your columns I could make one letter do 
the work of many, as it would most likely be seen 
there by all who expressed a desire to hear from me. 
Hence this result. 
This explanation begets another. As my letters 



To Europe and Back. 15 

will.have for their main object the gratification of pri- 
vate friends, the general reader will not, I fear, dis- 
cover much of interest in them ; for I frankly confess 
that to make readable letters is only a secondary con- 
sideration with me. I must, therefore, make use of 
my interest with you, and stipulate that when you 
publish a letter of mine you shall give it as " extra 
matter," and not curtail your usual variety to make 
room for it. I shall then feel justified in requesting 
all who feel no interest in my epistles to pass them 
by, and to remember that if they are worth nothing 
they cost nothing also, and so no one will be cheated. 
If this fact is kept in remembrance I shall write under 
less restraint : and with this much of explanation I 
can pass on to my task. 

I left New York on Saturday, the twenty-sixth 
day of May, in the steamer Bremen, of the North 
German Lloyd line, Captain H. A. F. Neynaber, 
bound for Bremen, with two hundred and thirty-three 
passengers and a trifle over a million of dollars in 
specie. There was but one person on the ship whom 
I had ever seen before, and he, a friend from Albany, 
was in the same state-room with me. I suppose most 
persons have realized what it is to bid good-bye to 
one's home, but those who have not been about to 
put the great sea between them and home, can hardly 
appreciate the choking emotions which crowd upon 
the passenger for Europe as the ship leaves her dock. 
It is an interesting sight. The wharf is crowded 



16 Bough Notes of a Trip 

with friends who come to bid " God-speed " to the 
voyagers, weeping, shouting and waving handker- 
chiefs. The passengers — almost to a woman as well 
as man — try to keep up a brave appearance, but the 
smiles are frequently mingled with queer contortions 
of the countenance. A gun is fired, a band strikes 
up, a great shout, is given, and the ship glides out of 
the dock. Everybody on shore rushes toward the 
end of the wharf, everybody on the ship crowds to 
where they can see their friends — shore and ship are 
alive with waving handkerchiefs, and, in less than 
two minutes it seems, distance renders recognition 
impossible. The excitement on the ship dies out very 
suddenly, the passengers gather into small and melan- 
choly groups, and I fear that but few of them really 
enjoy the sail down the magnificent harbor and bay 
of New York. I suppdse this is the regular scene as 
every steamer leaves port. I know that the passen- 
gers of the Bremen were a sad-looking set of beings, 
and I admit that your humble servant, albeit a man 
not much given to the melting mood, discovered a 
mist coming between his vision and the objects he 
was looking at. The day was a lovely one, and I 
think an excursion down to the mouth of the Hud- 
son must be very enjoyable, but the Europe-bound 
traveler is too busy with sad thoughts to realize the 
beauties of the scene. 

It is not my intention to detail my experiences on 
the voyage, though, more for the sake of having 



To Europe and Back. 17 

something to do than for any other reason, I noted 
all I could observe every day. On looking over this 
diary now, however, I discover but little that would in- 
terest even those who feel most interest in the writer. 
Perhaps the Notes may be useful hereafter, when I 
wish to beguile away a dull hour by taking the trip 
over again, in imagination. At any rate I hope so 
— else there is much labor lost. There are the usual 
comments upon the incidents of the day — the usual 
speculations upon fellow passengers, some of which 
afterward proved to be curiously correct and others 
quite as curiously incorrect — the usual record of the 
ship's progress, the most interesting fact of each 
day's history — the usual description of the first sun- 
set at sea — and, in short, the usual humdrum record 
of a prosperous voyage across the Atlantic. There 
was not even a fit of sea-sickness to describe, which 
was something of a disappointment, for I had flat- 
tered myself that my description would make some- 
body as sick as I was. Nor had I, therefore, an op- 
portunity to try many of the various remedies which 
were recommended by kind and experienced friends. 
True, I did feel a few qualms about the stomach the 
first day at dinner time, and I tried an experiment 
with a sailor's belt, which I had bought upon the in- 
junction of a friend who knew it to be infallible. I 
put it on ; every time I felt a qualm I tightened the 
belt, as I was instructed to do ; and I was not sea- 
sick : but) as I took some champagne at the same time 



18 Rough Notes of a Trip 






(another remedy), and had finally to take off the belt 
or breathe my last breath, it is hard to decide which 
preventive is entitled to my recommendation. I 
know I tried them both faithfully, but found I could 
stand another glass of champagne better than another 
reef in the belt. I was quite gratified, however, to 
discover that I had a waist once more, though it 
would not bear as much squeezing as I could wish. 

This brings me to the conclusion that a man must 
draw upon his imagination for his facts, if he expects 
to make up an interesting record of incidents on a 
passage to Europe in a steamship ; and my imagina- 
tion, you know, would not respond to many drafts, 
even of a small denomination. It must suffice to say 
that we had a remarkably pleasant and quick trip 
(within four hours of the quickest ever made between 
ISTew York and Bremen) — that the ship touched at 
Cowes (near Southampton) at three o'clock on Wed- 
nesday morning, a little more than ten days out — 
that I was gratified and surprised there by a visit 
at that early hour from a Buffalo friend, w T ho had 
heard of my coming — that after landing our passen- 
gers for England, and the specie (the latter in a very 
unceremonious way as it seemed to me), we proceed- 
ed on our voyage and reached Bremerhaven at four 
o'clock, the seventh of June, having made the passage 
in less than twelve days, counting the difference in 
time, from New York. I will spare your readers all 
my memoranda of feelings at first sight of land, of the 



To Europe and Back. 19 

beauties of the Isle of Wight and the white cliffs of 
Dover, and the reluctance with which I passed my 
native island, without stopping, after twenty years of 
absence; nor will I detail the proceedings of the pas- 
sengers just before we landed, further than to say 
that they were very complimentary and gratifying to 
the Captain; but I will get ashore as quick as pos- 
sible. 

Bremerhaven is thirty miles below Bremen, and is 
the harbor at which vessels of large burthen have to 
stop, though their nominal destination is the latter 
port. A train was in waiting for us, and we were de- 
posited in an elegant railway station at Bremen after 
a ride of about an hour and a-half, through a very 
flat, poor and uninteresting country. Bremen being a 
free city, there was no examination of our baggage, 
which was transferred to the Hotel de V Europe, a 
fine house, without trouble and at very little expense. 
A sound night's sleep in a good big bed was an inci- 
dent worth recording, after nearly two weeks of 
semi-suffocation in the narrow berth of a steamer. 

Very little is said in the Guide Books about Bre- 
men, yet I would advise every one who goes to 
Europe by way of that port to stop there a day or 
two at least. They will find much to interest them. 
As I had to leave before noon of next day, I got up 
very early, and in company with a lady who had been 
placed in my charge as soon as the ship touched port 
(as she was coming direct to Dresden), I drove about 



20 Rough Notes of a Trip 

the city for two hours. It is a quaint old town of 
nearly seventy-five thousand inhabitants, and has 
many curious and some very fine buildings. The 
most interesting to my eye is the Hathhaus, or town 
hall, which is more than four and a half centuries old, 
and one of the finest specimens of the florid gothic 
style of architecture I have ever seen. We visited the 
famous cellars beneath this building, where we saw 
enormous casks, covered with elaborate carvings, and 
filled with costly wines. In one was hock, said to be 
more than one hundred and fifty years old. I longed 
for a taste of it, but the price per glass — something 
over three dollars — was more than I had purse for; 
so we contented ourselves with drinking " the mem- 
ory of Washington " in some delicious hock made in 
the year that the first American Congress met. The 
Dom (Lutheran Cathedral) was originally a Roman- 
esque building, built in the year 1160. Additions 
having been made to it at different times, in various 
styles of architecture, its aspect now is very curious 
and venerable. Another fine church (St. Ausgarius) 
has a spire three hundred and twenty-five feet high. 
We saw a stone statue of a man eighteen feet high, 
so old that its history is almost a myth. It is called 
a Rolands'dule, and is supposed to be a symbol of the 
rights and privileges of the town. We saw many 
other objects worth noting, but inexorable haste for- 
bade our obtaining any reliable particulars about 
them. The pleasantest feature of the town, to us, 



To Europe and Bach. 21 

was the exquisite taste manifested in decorating the 
dwellings with beautiful flowers. With the rich this 
is done to an extraordinary degree. Most of the 
large houses have glass balconies in front filled with 
flowers, and many of the occupants were taking 
breakfast almost in the open air, as it were. But all 
the poor houses, also, manage to make a pretty show 
of vines and bushes, and almost all have a little arbor 
in the Lilliputian garden, into which the honest family 
contrive to squeeze themselves for an out-door meal. 
But I must not linger longer in Bremen, or I shall 
never get to Dresden, or to the end of this letter. It 
is necessary to go to the railway station at least an 
hour before the train starts, for though you can get 
into Bremen without trouble, you cannot go further 
into the interior until your baggage has been exam- 
ined. Here my troubles commenced. I had been 
entrusted by a friend with a valuable revolver and a 
pretty heavy package of cartridges to deliver to a 
relative of his in Dresden. These I had with great 
care wedged into my largest trunk, so that they 
would not move about and spoil other articles. By 
the help of a German friend another trunk and satchel 
had passed the scrutiny without trouble, and I was, 
with a good deal of vigorous pantomime, getting along 
nicely with the other, when the pistol case and pack- 
age of cartridges were discovered. No amount of 
good German, bad German, emphatic English or fran- 
tic gesticulations, would pass this. It had to be taken 
2* 



22 Rough Notes of a Trip 

out, to the derangement of my packing, and submit- 
ted to an officer, who finally passed it, however, after 
charging an insignificant sum for duty ; and I am 
happy to say that it has since been safely delivered 
to its destination. Five minutes longer, and I should 
have missed the train. I registered an inward vow 
never again to bring any deadly weapons to Ger- 
many, except such as I was willing to carry on my 
own person, and advise all future travelers to come 
to a similar determination. 

Off at last. We passed rapidly through many 
points of interest at which we ought to have stop- 
ped, to do justice to the country — such as Hanover, 
Brunswick, Magdeburg and Leipsic. At the former 
place we changed cars, and had time to obtain an ex- 
cellent dinner ; and there, also, I was taught a lesson 
which may be of service hereafter. We took our 
hand baggage into a waiting room, whilst we pro- 
ceeded to an adjoining Restaur ation. With the other 
pieces I very carelessly left a valuable gold-headed 
cane — valuable intrinsically, as a relic, and as the 
gift of a cherished friend. On our return, we found 
the articles where we left them, except the cane, and 
lo, that was gone ! In five minutes the train would 
start, and it appeared to be a hopeless case. My com- 
panion had a little French and less German. We 
seized an official, who might have been either a rail- 
way porter or a Field Marshal, for aught we knew to 
the contrary, and contrived to make him understand 



To Europe and Back, 23 

the loss. He found another officer, went off with 
him, and returned with the cane, which he put 
through the window of the coach just as the train 
was starting. He appeared to be as pleased as I was, 
and the last I saw of him he was bowing his acknowl- 
edgments of the reward I had slipped into his hand. 
The probability is that some police officer had seen 
the cane and taken it to a place of safety. I was as- 
sured that I could certainly have obtained it, even 
after weeks of delay, so perfect are the police arrange- 
ments in the railway stations of Germany ; but I shall 
not test them in that way again. 

Off again. We were still in rather a poor country, 
and certainly saw but little to note. Lots of peasant 
women were at work in the fields, doing work which 
might be good for man or beast, but which it was 
painful to see them labor at. We had observed al- 
ready that the management of railways is very differ- 
ent from the American system. Every precaution 
for safety is enforced, and an accident is rarely heard 
of. The tracks are enclosed, and men are stationed 
all along, within sight of each other, to give warning 
of danger. All the railway buildings are of a very 
substantial character, and many of them quite impos- 
ing in architectural effect, heightened, in most cases, 
by pretty flowers in the windows, with all ugly angles 
toned down by the growth of climbing plants. 

Not much else did we take note of in our rapid 
journey. One thing, however, we did learn, viz: 



24 Hough Notes of a Trip 

that it is not safe to assume that English speech is 
not understood in Germany. A very pretty German 
lady was in the carriage with us, the latter part of 
the journey. Supposing she did not speak English, 
my companion and myself talked away quite oblivi- 
ous of her presence. Suddenly, in the midst of a 
rather warm discussion about some political question 
(in which, I may as well admit, the lady carried too 
many guns for me — for she was, alas ! of Boston birth 
and education !), I effected a diversion by offering a 
wager that our unknown companion understood every 
word we said. A hearty laugh from the quiet-look- 
ing lady in the corner was the response, and out of 
that grew a pleasant talk, carried on on her part in 
the prettiest of not very broken English, in which she 
admitted that the temptation to laugh at our chatter 
had been almost too strong to resist many times be- 
fore my direct reference to her finally gave the finish- 
ing touch to her risibilities. Up to this time it had 
been hard to realize that we were " foreigners," but 
now we began to see it. 

So the time was agreeably passed away until we 
reached our destination, at a little past midnight. 
We arrived at Dresden in a trifle over thirteen days 
from New York, including a stop of sixteen hours at 
Bremen ; and here, notwithstanding your anxiety to 
hear about the war, I shall stop for the present, heart- 
ily joining in your wish that my next letter shall be 
shorter. 



To Europe and Baelt. 25 



ii. 



DRESDEN. — THE WAR, AND WHAT AN AMERICAN THOUGHT 
ABOUT IT. — COMMENCEMENT OF HOSTILITIES. — EVACUA- 
TION OF THE CITY BY THE SAXONS. — KING JOHN'S 
PROCLAMATION. — THE PRUSSIANS EXPECTED. — SHUT UP 
IN DRESDEN. 

Dresden, Saxony, June 16, 1866. 
When I finished my last letter, two days ago, all 
was quiet in Dresden so far as I could observe or 
learn. I supposed it would be at least a week before 
I should write you again, and that then my letter 
would be chiefly devoted to a description of this place 
and of the many wonderful and beautiful things it 
contains. I knew you would expect to hear some- 
thing about the war, and that you would be greatly 
surprised to find no interesting particulars thereof 
in my last letter. In fact, I took a little malicious 
pleasure in your mystification, for I had been thor- 
oughly bewildered myself, not having been able, after 
nearly a week of persevering eflbrt, to obtain the 
slightest information of a reliable character. Nobody 



26 Rough Notes of a Trip 

knew whether Dresden was to be disturbed by either 
Prussians or Austrians, and when I asked for some 
decided opinion, a shake of the head and a shrug of 
the shoulders were the only reply. One prominent 
American gentleman, who has resided here some 
years, was decidedly sarcastic on the slowness of the 
Germans. He did not believe they intended to fight 
at all. They would call each other names and shake 
their fists, he said, but would never come to blows.* 
I think he is rather proud of the tremendous energy 
displayed by his countrymen at home, of the brief 
time it took for our great war to grow into gigantic 
proportions, and the immense amount of blood and 
treasure we contrived to spill and spend in four short 
years. He talks of our enormous debt almost as 
grandly as though he had furnished all the money 
himself, and it seems to me that the confident air he 
assumes when he speaks of our ability to pay that 
trifle, must help greatly to keep our securities in good 
repute in this market. So satisfied had I become 
through his assurances that there would be no trou- 
ble, that I had determined to stay out my proposed 
visit, and go on quietly about my business of enjoy- 
ing the sights of this grand old town. With him, I 
thought the Prussian and Austrian armies were like 
two angry dogs, growling and bristling and showing 

*The wonderful results of the short but bloody campaign which soon 
followed, proved how thoroughly mistaken this gentleman was in his 
estimate of the German character. The Prussians, at any rate, were ter- 
ribly in earnest. 



To Europe and Each. 27 

their teeth, but certain to slink away in opposite di- 
rections unless some mischievous boy should shy a 
stick at them and set them on. And I hoped no en- 
fant terrible — not even he of France — would be 
naughty enough to do that. 

Well, I had hardly written that letter when all w T as 
changed. We could have departed from Dresden any 
day this week until yesterday, and should have done 
so but for the vain confidence I have spoken of. But 
I didn't care to go for a week, and now it looks dubi- 
ous as to whether anybody can go when they do feel 
so inclined. In fact, it is doubtful whether my other 
letter gets through, and it is quite likely you will get 
this and that together ; but as to when you will get 
them I can give no guess. 

For it seems that the war has commenced in earn- 
est at last. Yesterday we learned that the Prussians 
were advancing on this place, and that, by order of 
the King of Saxony, the railway bridges at Misen and 
Resea had been destroyed, so as to retard their pro- 
gress. Railway communication between Dresden 
and Berlin is thus interrupted, and to-day I hear that 
trains will stop running to Prague as well. ^ Strangers 
will therefore have to content themselves here for the 
present. Yesterday the Saxon troops began to march 
out of the town, going, it is supposed, to join those 
of Bavaria, probably in aid of Austria. The move- 
ment was kept up all night, and this morning there 
was not a soldier of the Royal army in town. Dres- 



28 Hough .Notes of a Trip 

den, indeed, is abandoned to the Prussians, whose 
army is expected here this evening. At ten o'clock 
this morning the King issued a proclamation, which 
is translated for me as follows : 

" To my Faithful Saxoks : — 

44 An unjust act has obliged me to take np arms. 

" Saxons ! because we stand true to the rights of a 
4 brother nation — because we hold fast to the band 
4 which encircles the great German fatherland — be- 
4 cause we do not shrink from our duty to the JBund 
4 — we are to be treated as enemies. 

44 However painful the sacrifice may be which fate 
4 has ordained for us, let us go cheerfully to the con- 
4 test for the Holy cause. 

44 It is true we are small in numbers, but God is 
4 mighty in the weak who trust in him ; and the help 
4 of all who are faithful to the JBund will not fail us. 

44 Although I am for the moment obliged to lay 
4 down the reins of government and separate myself 
4 from you, I still remain in the midst of my brave 
4 army, where I shall still feel myself in Saxony ; and 
4 hope, when Heaven has blessed our arms, soon to 
4 return to you. 

44 1 rely firmly on your faithfulness and love. As 
4 we have kept together in the bright hours, so will 
4 we stand together in the hour of trial. Do you 
4 also trust in me, whose highest aim was and is your 
4 welfare. 



To Eurojpe and Back, 29 

" With God for the Right. Let that be our watch- 

" word ! 

" John. 
"Dresden, 16th June, 1866." 

This proclamation is published in an " extra " by 
the newspapers, and with it is given the correspond- 
ence which took place yesterday between the Prus- 
sian Ambassador to the Court of Dresden, Count 
Schulenburg, and the Saxon Prime Minister, Baron 
von Beust. The Prussian writes a very insolent let- 
ter, demanding that the Saxon army shall be instantly 
placed on a peace footing — that Saxony shall follow 
the lead of Prussia in withdrawing from the German 
Parliament — and that the King shall govern Saxony 
according to the reformed system of Prussia. If Sax- 
ony refuses to accede to these demands, the King of 
Prussia, " much to his regret," will be obliged to 
treat her as an enemy. Saxony is reminded that, 
with her geographical position between the two great 
German powers, she cannot hope to remain neutral. 

The Saxon Minister replies that Saxony cannot 
think of separating from the Bund, or of acceding to 
either of the other demands of Prussia. 

Upon the receipt of this note the Prussian Ambas- 
sador returned a formal declaration of war, and at 
midnight the Prussian troops marched into Saxony 
at Strehla, about thirty-five miles from this place. 

This morning King John left Dresden for his army, 
his principal ministers accompanying him. He ap- 



30 Hough Notes of a Trip 

pointed a commission in a subsequent proclamation, 
to govern his possessions during his absence. And 
now all Dresden is patiently or sullenly expecting the 
arrival of the Prussians. Unless the Austrians should 
come as well, of course there will be no fight here, 
as no resistance will be offered by the Saxons. 

John of Saxony is quite aged and infirm. He is 
greatly beloved by his people, though only about one- 
fifth of them are of the Roman Catholic religion, like 
himself. He is a beautiful old man, with one of the 
most intellectual faces I ever saw. His private char- 
acter is irreproachable ; but not so much can be said, 
I am told, for his eldest son. The King leads a very 
quiet life, and is devoted to literary pursuits. A 
week ago the great majority of his subjects were for 
Austria. Then it was supposed that the Austrians 
would get here first. Now, it being certain that Dres- 
den is left to the tender mercies of the Prussians, I 
observe that many of the citizens think it is not so 
bad a thing to be a Prussian after all. "We shall 
all be Prussians to-morrow," said a merchant to me 
to-day. " Tou were all Austrians, yesterday," re- 
sponded I. He shrugged his shoulders in a way that 
expressed more than I can put into English. They 
all do that here, quite beyond the power of transla- 
tion. "What shall we do?" said he. "Our King 
has left us. We are without a head." 

This afternoon a good many Saxon troops marched 
through the city, coming from the Prussian frontier 



To Europe and Back. 31 

and retreating before the Prussians probably, to join 
their brethren who left yesterday and this morning 
to unite with the Bavarians. I saw them march 
across the two magnificent bridges over the Elbe, 
which connect the old and new towns now compos- 
ing the city of Dresden. It was an imposing sight, 
and afforded a more vivid idea of the pomp and cir- 
cumstance of war than we obtained in Buffalo during 
the whole period of our great rebellion. To-night I 
hear that there has been a light not far from this 
place, and also that the Prussians have seized Han- 
over and taken its King a prisoner. 

Nearly all the smaller German powers voted 
against Prussia in the Bund, and Bismarck has deter- 
mined to treat such action as a declaration of war 
against Prussia. ]STo doubt the latter power will 
overrun those weak states. Many people tell me 
that it is quite possible I have seen the last of Saxony 
as an independent Kingdom : I hope not. I know 
that the King has removed all his private jewels from 
the place where they were exhibited, and the great 
Picture Gallery is closed to the public to-day, and its 
entrances are built up. This is said to be only a pre- 
cautionary measure against riot by the citizens, whilst 
the soldiers are away from the garrisons. It seems 
hardly probable, however, that the citizens would at- 
tempt to destroy the priceless treasures in the Gal- 
lery, which are justly their greatest pride. 

As I said in the beginning, I expected this letter 



32 



Hough Notes of a Trip 



would be principally devoted to describing the sights 
of Dresden. It was my intention to give no small 
portion of it to the Picture Gallery, in which I have 
spent many hours the past week. But it looks now as 
though I should have plenty of leisure on my hands 
for some days to come, so I can postpone that pleas- 
ant task till my next. 

Being shut up here, you will be glad to hear that 
I am in good company. There are a great many 
Americans in Dresden, and Buffalo has quite a repre- 
sentation. Mr. and Mrs. R. J. S. arrived here from 
the Tyrol, the day after I did ; and a day or two later 
came Mr. and Mrs. G. S. H. and their son, Mr. A. EL 
They are all here still. We talk about holding a 
Buffalo Convention. We all find consolation in the 
thought that if we must be detained we could not 
find a pleasanter place to stay in, always excepting 
Buffalo, as a matter of course. Besides Americans, 
there are but few other foreigners in town, though at 
this season Dresden is usually full of representatives 
of all nations. Many Russians and Poles left some 
time ago, when their money began to depreciate, and 
the English visitors are nearly all gone also ; so we 
Americans are in the majority. Much of the business 
of the city is in the sale of goods to foreigners, and 
the Dresdeners feel their absence very keenly. 

If there should be a fight in this vicinity you may 
have a letter from " Our War Correspondent " on 
the spot. 



To Europe and Back. 33 



in. 

OCCUPATION OF DRESDEN BY THE PRUSSIANS. — THE AUS- 
TRIANS EXPECTED. — ALARMING RUMORS. — FLIGHT OF 
THE TOURISTS. — DIFFICULTIES OF GETTING AWAY, AND 
HOW THEY WERE OVERCOME. — ARRIVAL AT BERLIN. — 
SIGHT-SEEING THERE AND THEREABOUTS.— " GREENBACKS 
ARE GOOD." 

Berlin, June 24 7 1866. 
Whilst I was writing my last letter the Saxon 
troops were marching out of Dresden, and the Prus- 
sians were hourly expected to come and take posses- 
sion. About noon the next day (Monday, June 18th) 
they did come, and I was fortunate enough to see the 
first of them. Small squads of cavalry were in the 
advance, and scoured through the streets, as if they 
expected to meet some resistance. They found none, 
however, for the citizens had been expecting them 
the previous twenty-four hours, and it was hard to 
say from appearances that the Prussians w T ere not just 
as welcome as the Saxon soldiery had been. In a 
very few hours the town was completely occupied by 



34 Rough Notes of a Trip 

the invading army. I saw some fifteen thousand 
Prussian soldiers march into Dresden, over the great 
bridge across the Elbe, and was told that before night 
thirty thousand of them were in the city. It was an 
exciting scene, one of the most brilliant I ever beheld, 
as they passed over that long and magnificent bridge. 
The men were splendidly equipped, the horses fine, 
and it was altogether more like a great holiday pa- 
rade than an act of actual war. Most of the soldiers 
had green branches stuck in their hats, and they 
laughed and joked with the citizens in a very friendly 
way. In fact it was difficult to realize that these 
were the soldiers of a power which had just declared 
war against the country and were now taking pos- 
session of its capital, for the people were apparently 
as friendly as the soldiers. The shops were not 
closed, nor was business at all interrupted, except 
through the curiosity of the citizens. In an hour or 
two the Prussians had the palaces and public build- 
ings under guard, and the occupation of Dresden, the 
first important hostile act of what may prove a long 
and bloody war, was complete. 

The Prussian commander, General von Bittenfeld, 
and his staff, took quarters at the Plotel Bellevue, 
where the American travelers, of whom I wrote you 
last week, including the Buffalo party, were stopping; 
but the guests were not disturbed in any way. The 
General is a fine-looking man of about sixty, with a 
thin red face and white hair, a light moustache, and 



To Europe and Back. 35 

no beard. He is about live feet ten inches high and 
stoops slightly. Early the next day he issued a proc- 
lamation to the Saxons, telling them that the Prus- 
sians had not come as enemies, but as friends, to pro- 
tect their country against an invasion by a common 
enemy. It would depend upon the Saxons them- 
selves whether the measures adopted should be mild 
or severe. They intended to hold the country until 
the questions between Austria and Prussia should be 
decided. The tone of the proclamation was calcu- 
lated to make the Saxon people believe that their 
best policy would be to unite with the Prussians ; 
and from what I could observe, I came to the conclu- 
sion that a majority of the citizens of Dresden were 
of that opinion, though the Court party and the aris- 
tocracy undoubtedly sympathized with the govern- 
ment in taking sides with the Austrians. 

It has been said many times by correspondents of 
English and American newspapers, that the Prussian 
soldiers were not heartily in favor of this war, and 
that they would be unwilling to attack the Austrians. 
I suggested this idea to a prominent Dresden citizen, 
a strong sympathizer with the Prussians, by the way, 
in their ambition to become the leading power of the 
German people. " Not so," replied he, " the Prus- 
sians will fight fast enough when they see the white 
coats (the Austrians). If there ever had been any re- 
luctance to fight, on the part of the Prussians, I ima- 
gine it is all dissipated by the address which the Aus- 



36 Rough Notes of a Trip 

trian commander-in-chief, Marshal Benedek, has made 
to his army on taking command. He tells his sol- 
diers that the Prussians pride themselves on the long 
ranges of their guns, and of their six-shooting rifles, 
and that they expect great advantages from the use 
of these weapons. He does not intend to let them 
gain anything from this. He will bring the fighting 
to close quarters, where Austrian strength and Aus- 
trian bayonets, backed by Austrian bravery, will, as 
they always have done, gain the day. He promises 
to lead his men to the capital of the enemy, where 
they shall repay themselves, as they choose, for all 
the hardships and privations they have endured. 

This brutal threat to sack and plunder Berlin, and 
to leave its inhabitants to the tender mercies of his 
soldiers, is quite in keeping with the reputation of 
the Austrian commander, who is said to be a second 
Haynau. Its effect on the Prussians has certainly 
been a good one, worth more, perhaps, than any ad- 
dress which could have been published by their own 
King or General-in-Chief. It was received in Dres- 
den the day after the Prussians took possession of 
the city, and I fancied I could see that the soldiers 
appeared more enthusiastic than before. 

That day (Tuesday) we heard rumors of fighting 
in the vicinity, and that the Austrians were advanc- 
ing in great force. We were advised to get away as 
early as possible, as the bridges might be destroyed, 
and then we would perhaps be shut up in Dresden an 



To Europe arid Bach. 87 

indefinite length of time. The way was clear by rail 
to the Prussian capital now, but how long it would 
remain so no one could tell. It was the only route 
open from Dresden, also; so, although we should not 
have gone there had choice been left us, we deter- 
mined to get ready for a journey to Berlin next day. 

When next day came, however, it looked very 
doubtful whether we could avail ourselves of this 
last chance. In the morning Dresden was all excite- 
ment. All sorts of alarming rumors were in circula- 
tion. The Austrians, one hundred thousand strong, 
were marching toward the city. There had been 
skirmishing already, and the Prussians had been 
driven back. There would be fighting in the streets 
before the day was over. If the Prussians could not 
hold the city they would destroy it, and blow up the 
bridges so that the Austrians could not follow them. 
The Austrians were within two hours' march — one 
hour's march — in sight — and would be here di- 
rectly ! 

As we could not leave till the afternoon at three 
o'clock, you may imagine that the excitement had be- 
come somewhat feverish before that time. Not at all 
inclined at any time to give credit to wild rumors, I 
could yet see for myself that the Prussians were pre- 
paring for a conflict. They were posted in all the 
squares and market places, under arms. The shops 
were being rapidly closed. The soldiers were cutting 
down the large trees in the Great Garden, and the 
3 



38 Hough Notes of a Trip 

people in the neighboring houses were warned to 
leave them. The Austrians were expected to come 
from that direction. Droschkies and carriages, usu- 
ally to be seen everywhere, were now not to be had 
for love or money. Finally, though my trunks had 
been packed for hours, I began to think we should 
not get away after all. 

Fortunately, a friend, a resident of Dresden, was 
as anxious on our account as we were ourselves. Af- 
ter an hour's search he procured us a carriage, and 
we started for the railway station, which is in the new 
town, not at all sure that we would find the great 
railway bridge, over which we had to drive, still 
standing. At the last moment, as the last trunk was 
being carried out, our friend, who is a nervous, excit- 
able man, whispered that he had something to tell 
me, but would not tell it until we were all in the car- 
riage. " What is it ? " asked I, as I took my seat. 
He wrung my hand and whispered that he had just 
heard the Prussians were mistaken — they were ex- 
pecting the Austrians from one direction, but they 
were coming, " a hundred thousand of them ! " that 
way — pointing to the direction in which we were 
going. " But," he added, " perhaps you will be off 
before they arrive. God bless you ! " I thought this 
was a comforting assurance to start away on, but it 
was not the last. My friend (perfectly in earnest, I 
am sure, only he is the most excitable creature I ever 
met) stopped the carriage to tell me something more. 



To Europe and Back. 39 

"I almost forgot," he gasped. "For God's sake 
don't tell your wife. If you get to Berlin get out 
again as quick as you can. They have got the chol- 
era there awfully ! Good-bye." 

With this pleasant prospect before us, we started ; 
drove over the bridge and into the station all right, 
passing thousands of travelers, it seemed, hurrying 
away from the city. At the station we found our 
Buffalo friends, and many other Americans, who, like 
ourselves, had got there with difficulty. One lady, not 
unknown where this will be read, had displayed a 
degree of American energy and coolness under trying 
circumstances, which deserves to be mentioned. As 
no carriages were to be had, most of the party had 
walked from the hotel to the station, more than a 
mile. The lady of whom I speak was not able to do 
this, and there was much anxiety to know how she 
could be taken there. She proved equal to the emer- 
gency, however. There was a carriage at the hotel 
door, waiting for some one who had been lucky 
enough to secure it. Not another could be had at 
any price. What then does this lady do ? She coolly 
stepped into the carriage, and, saying "eisenbahn!" 
to the driver, left the event to fate. The poor driver 
was voluble, almost frantic, in his remonstrances. 
The carriage was not for her ! Would not the lady 
please get out ? The lady understood never a sylla- 
ble of what he said, and had only one German word 
to give back. "Msenbahn, eisenbahn!" she repeated. 



40 Rough Notes of a Trip 

The driver looked desperate, and apparently medi- 
tated lifting her out of the carriage. But she was no 
feather-weight, as was plain to be seen, and if such 
an energetic plan occurred to him he did not at- 
tempt to carry it out. At length the poor fellow, 
with a despairing shrug, abandoned the argument, 
mounted the box, and drove at a great pace down to 
the railway station, where the lady arrived triumph- 
ant, passing several of her friends on the way. Did 
not her one German word stand her in good stead 
that day? She could not have done so well if she 
had had the whole German dictionary at her tongue's 
end. This is what her friends told me about the mat- 
ter : I only tell the story as it was told to me. 

At three o'clock the train started, and at half-past 
eight in the evening, after a very pleasant ride, we 
reached Berlin, where we are all stopping at the Ho- 
tel du JVbrd. On the way hither we passed many 
Prussian soldiers, en route to Dresden, it appeared. 
The stations were all strongly guarded, but we met 
with no detentions. I think I may assert, however, 
for one and all, that when we found ourselves com- 
fortably located, although we had not desired to 
come, we felt " it was good to be here." 

It seems fated that I am not to tell you anything 
of Dresden itself, of the glories of its picture-galler- 
ies, its museums, its treasures and precious stones, 
and the magnificence of its public buildings, though I 
saw much of all these during my first week there. I 



To Europe and Back. 41 

found time to select a large set of copies of the gems 
of the Gallery by the great photographer Hanfstaengl 
— else I should have had but very little, except in 
memory, to remind me of Dresden. I had intended 
to make many little excursions from that place, par- 
ticularly into Saxon Switzerland, and I meant to gos- 
sip of these trips, through you, to my friends. Inex- 
orable war has disappointed me, however, and it 
seems likely to keep me from talking of what it did 
permit me to see, so much space does it demand for 
itself. Besides, I want to bring our adventnres up 
to date in this letter, and, therefore, I must content 
myself with a promised indulgence in some Reminis- 
cences of Dresden, when more time and more space 
are at my disposal. 

Berlin, though a great deal larger, is not nearly so 
interesting a city as Dresden, nor has it anything like 
so many objects of attraction, either in itself or in its 
vicinity. Located in the midst of a flat, nninviting 
and miserably poor country, it is entirely indebted to 
Art and History for whatever of beauty or interest 
it possesses. I shall not trouble you with many par- 
ticulars about the place, doubting not that they are 
in general as familiar to you as to myself. I shall 
only speak of what I see and hear, and shall, I dare 
say, mix up news about the war with other matters, 
just as they occur to me. When you wish to learn 
more about a place than I write, refer to Murray's 
Hand-Books, which I find in the main quite reliable. 



42 Rough Notes of a Trip 

The most conspicuous feature of Berlin is the mul- 
titude of statues which are everywhere visible. In 
all the public squares, on the bridges, on most of the 
large buildings, private as well as public, statues and 
groups of sculpture meet the eye. Even humble and 
unpretentious structures are in this way adorned. 
The glory of the city, in this respect, is the great 
equestrian statue of Frederick the Great, modelled by 
Rauch, and erected in 1851. This is a wonderful 
piece of work, at once massive, elaborate and beauti- 
ful. It is said to be the grandest monument in 
Europe, and indeed one cannot well conceive how 
anything in that way can be finer. " Murray " gives 
a very accurate description of it, but it would occupy 
too much space to transfer to your columns, and yet 
anything more brief would not convey a correct idea 
of this triumph of Art. It is a history, as well as a 
monument, of Prussia's greatest hero. 

Next in importance to this work, and almost as 
highly esteemed by the Prussians, is the Car of Vic- 
tory on the top of the Brandenburg Gate, which is at 
the end of the principal street, considered one of the 
finest in Europe, called Unter den Linten, from a 
double avenue of lime trees which form a shady walk 
in the centre for an immense length, a carriage road 
being on either side. The Car of Victory was carried 
as a trophy to Paris by Napoleon, but was recovered 
by the Prussians after the battle of Waterloo, and is 
probably more highly esteemed by them than ever. 



To Europe and Back. 43 

We have made the most of the time the last three 
days in visiting the sights of the city. We have had 
drives through the Thiergarten, a sort of Central 
Park without any of its natural beauties ; — a visit to 
" Kroll's," the greatest place of resort in the city, 
being an immense garden containing an opera house, 
at which we heard " La Sonnambula " very well per- 
formed, and after that an outdoor concert by an or- 
chestra of more than fifty performers, the promenades 
in the meantime crowded with well-dressed people, 
hundreds of little tables in arbors and about the 
grounds, at nearly every one of which little parties 
were taking refreshments ; the entire place brilliantly 
illuminated when night came on, with thousands of 
colored lamps and jets of gas in fanciful and beauti- 
ful devices, lights darting from fountains, trees and 
flowers, in most unexpected places, the whole making 
a fairy scene quite beyond my powers of description ; 
— a drive to Charlottenburg, about three miles from 
Berlin, our object being to see the famous monument 
of Queen Louisa, the wife of the late King, which is 
in a small Doric temple at the extremity of a long 
walk shaded with fir trees, and is a work of inexpres- 
sible beauty, considered the masterpiece of Rauch; — 
a visit to the Royal Porcelain Manufactory, where we 
saw the whole process of making the elegant wares 
for which the establishment is famous, and learned 
that it was founded by Frederick the Great, who cap- 
tured the artists from Dresden and imprisoned them 



44: Rough Notes of a Trip 

here until the work reached a degree of perfection as 
high as it had attained in that place ; — a visit to the 
Zoological Gardens, a place so immense (about eighty 
acres) that the really fine collection makes but little 
show ; — a pilgrimage to the tomb of Humboldt, at 
Tegel, the family estate, about nine miles from the 
city, a beautiful place, where we sat under the great 
oak which was the favorite seat of the philosopher, 
and plucked a leaf or two of ivy from his grave. 

I have said nothing of our visits to the Museum 
and Picture Gallery, and, indeed, have made only the 
briefest mention, as you will see, where I might have 
written pages with less trouble and more satisfaction 
(at least to myself) if I did not limit the space to be 
occupied. This style of description cannot be inter- 
esting to the general reader, but you must remember 
what I said at the beginning of my first letter, viz : 
that I was writing more for private friends than for 
general readers, and hold me excused accordingly. 
Incidents are particularly scarce you will notice, for 
to narrate incidents takes up room, and room I have 
not to spare. But I will give you one which sur r 
prised me some, mortified me more, and yet amused 
me a little. I was in an exchange office, getting some 
money changed. Two girls came in, one of them de- 
siring to sell a bill which she had received from an 
American gentleman, she said. It was a $2 bill of a 
Michigan bank broken nearly twenty years ago ! 
They had hardly left before an honest-looking man 



To Europe and Back. 45 

came in — a poor shop-keeper I fear — with what he 
supposed were two $5 greenbacks. They were noth- 
ing but advertisements, making no pretence to be 
money, but printed in a sort of rude imitation of our 
popular currency, and bearing the legend, in great 
staring letters, " Greenbacks are Good! " and then 
telling the place where greenbacks were good in ex- 
change for ready-made clothing ! The poor man de- 
clared that he had received the bills as good American 
money. If such rascally tricks as these are common, 
can it be wondered at that our paper money is in 
such bad odor abroad? 

Last night there was official intelligence here that 
the rumors of the defeat of the Prussians in several 
skirmishes near Dresden are false, and that the Prus- 
sian soldiers in Dresden had sacked the residence 
of the Saxon Prime Minister, Baron von Beust, to 
whose influence they attributed the action of Saxony 
in siding with the Austrians. The night before last 
a fine-looking regiment of soldiers left this place for 
Leipsic, marching directly under my window. The 
Government has called out the Reserve and the first 
JLandwehr, the latter movement alone giving Prussia 
one hundred and thirty thousand more effective sol- 
diers, all of whom have served in the army. Unpopu- 
lar as Bismarck undoubtedly is with the people now, if 
Prussia is successful in this war he will, perhaps, be- 
come the popular idol. It is expected now that he will 
make concessions to the people, and allow the Parlia- 
3* 



46 Rough Notes of a Trip 

ment to meet, though the same members whom he 
has kicked out three times before are sure to be re- 
turned again at the forthcoming election. In that 
case the necessary supplies will be promptly voted, 
and the Prussian people will be a unit in the war 
against Austria. 

I expect to write you next week from some city on 
the Rhine. 

P. 8. — There is no cholera here, I am credibly in- 
formed, except amongst the very poor, who are 
almost starving on account of the high price of pro- 
visions, owing to the scarcity produced by the war. 
Misery like this always attends the strife for glory in 
Europe. 



To Europe and Back,. 47 



IV. 



SIGHT-SEEING IN BERLIN. — THE ROYAL STABLES. — THE GREAT 
PALACE. — THE EXCHANGE. — POTSDAM AND ITS SIGHTS. — 
COLOGNE, AND THE JOURNEY THITHER. — THE CATHEDRAL. 
— OLD STORIES, OLD CHURCHES AND OLD SMELLS. — THE 
RHINE. — AN INCIDENT. — THE WAR AND RUMORS OF WAR. 

Cologne, July 1st, 1866. 
If it is as great a bore to read my letters as it is to 
write them, I pity such of your subscribers, dear 
Commercial^ as do me the honor to wade through 
them. The fact is, I am sorry that I ever commenced 
this series of letters for your columns, for notwith- 
standing my distinct avowal at the outset of entire 
freedom to continue or stop them as I pleased, a 
life-long habit of completing whatever I begin, urges 
me to go on now, whilst the desire for one day of real 
rest after a week of travel and sight-seeing makes this 
regularly recurring task a task to be dreaded. Be- 
sides, the more I think about it the more conscious I 
become of how. little that is new or interesting I shall 
be able to present you. If I hear of any incident in 



48 Rough Notes of a Trip 

the war, the English and French newspapers will be 
sure to reach you with the news before my letter can ; 
and as for what I see in my travels, all has been told 
a thousand tim^s before, and each time a thousand 
times better than I can tell it, which multiplies the 
chances against me fearfully. " Perseverance," how- 
ever, being my great virtue (if I have one), I will go 
on, in spite of such discouraging considerations, with 
these rambling, disjointed epistles. 

We spent four or five days more in Berlin after I 
mailed my last letter, but did not see many of the 
sights of the city in that time. One of the days being 
" election day," most of the public buildings were 
closed, and another being a " fast day," proclaimed by 
the King, who invoked the prayers of the people for 
the success of the Prussian army, all business was 
suspended, and no entrance could be effected into any 
of the places most worthy of a visit. An inspection 
of the Royal stables, and a visit to the Great Palace, 
comprise nearly all I have additional to note of Ber- 
lin. It appeared to me that the Royal stud was a 
vast concern, and I thought the collection of noble- 
looking horses could hardly be excelled, in extent or 
value; but I was assured that the stables of the King 
of Hanover were much finer in every way. One sec- 
tion of the Berlin establishment housed between forty 
and fifty coal-black stallions, every one of which 
looked to me like a horse of price. In another de- 
partment were splendid bay carriage-horses, and in 



To Europe and Bach. 49 

another the Queen's saddle-horses, numerous enough, 
I should think, to give her a fresh one every day in 
the month. The state carriages were uncovered and 
opened for our inspection, and very magnificent were 
some of them, and very comfortable were others. 
The official who escorted us was a grand-looking per- 
sonage, but he did not disdain to accept the fee which, 
we were told, it was customary to offer him. I find 
that though nearly all the great palaces of Germany 
can be entered without payment, it is very difficult to 
effect an exit without dropping something into vari- 
ous expectant hands ready at every door. In fact, I 
think it may be laid down as a rule for foreign visit- 
ors not to fear giving offence by offering a gratuity to 
anybody at these places — only be sure and make it 
large enough. 

The Royal Palace is an imposing edifice, vast in 
size and grand in its surroundings. In the spacious 
court-yard stands a magnificent group in bronze, 
by Kiss, representing St. George and the Dragon ; 
a noble work of art, quite equal if not superior to his 
famous Amazon and Tiger. We were escorted 
through the Palace by the castellan, and the gentle- 
men of the party were invited to slip their feet into 
huge list slippers before they could set foot on the 
polished inlaid wood floors. The different apartments 
of the Palace are sumptuously, some of them gorge- 
ously, furnished ; but I will not undertake a descrip- 
tion of them. The "White Hall" struck me as the 



50 Rough Notes of a Trip 

most magnificent of all. This room is fitted entirely 
with silver and white decorations. In it are statues 
of the twelve Brandenburg Electors, and allegorical 
figures representing the Prussian provinces. It is 
lighted by a superb chandelier, of silver and cut-glass 
and crystal, which holds between two and three thou- 
sand candles. There are many fine and extremely 
interesting portraits in the different rooms. But the 
crowning glory of the Palace, to my thinking, is the 
beautiful Chapel, which was built and decorated be- 
tween the years 1848 and 1854. The dome is pecu- 
liarly grand, and the paintings and frescoes, to me, 
were miracles of art. The King does not live in this 
grand Palace, preferring to live in a smaller one near 
by, which was his home as Crown Prince. I dare say 
he is much more comfortable where he is ; certainly 
the building has a more home-like look. 

A peculiarity, and certainly not a pleasing peculiar- 
ity, of most of the large buildings I have yet seen in 
Germany, is that they are covered with stucco, a 
fact which is due I suppose to the scarcity of stone 
fit for building purposes. In Berlin nearly all the 
buildings, including the palaces, are built of a coarse 
kind of brick, and plastered with this stucco. An ex- 
ception to this rule, however, is the Exchange, or 
Bourse, which is a very noble building of light brown 
stone, the walls and pillars of the interior being en- 
tirely of polished granite and marble. I have never 
seen any edifice more solidly constructed, or better 



To Europe arid Bach. 51 

adapted to its object. It was built quite recently by 
a company composed of members of the Exchange, 
and cost about a million of dollars. 

We spent two days in Potsdam, which is a town of 
about forty thousand inhabitants, twenty miles from 
Berlin. It is a city of palaces, containing four or 
five Royal residences, and is a very interesting place. 
Two very hard days' work may be done in sight-see- 
ing here. We visited the Church of the Garrison, 
where we saw the plain metal sarcophagus which 
holds the remains of the Great Frederick; Sans Souci, 
which was built by him to suit his own taste, but 
which certainly suits no one else, and where he and 
Voltaire had their friendly and unfriendly disputes ; 
the famous Windmill which Frederick wished to buy 
but could not, and about which he sustained one of 
the few defeats of his career, in a law suit; the New 
Palace which he built in a fit of bravado, to show his 
enemies that his finances were not exhausted by the 
tremendous expenditures of the seven years' war — 
an immense building of red brick, with flat white 
marble pillars, a most comfortless-looking structure, 
more like a great factory or barracks than a Royal 
residence, the walls and ceilings of one apartment 
lined with minerals and shells in singularly bad taste, 
like nothing ever seen before, except in a " spectacle 
piece " in a theatre ; the Raphael Hall, which contains 
copies, good, bad and indifferent, of most of the paint- 
ings and cartoons of the divine master; the* gardens 



52 Rough Notes of a Trip 






of Prince Carl, which are laid out with the most ex- 
quisite taste and afford many charming views; and, 
finally, we visited Babelsberg, a modern castle of white 
brick, built by the present king, and as charming a 
residence as it is possible to conceive, the grounds, 
gardens, terraces, fountains and walks being more 
beautiful than anything of the kind we had hitherto 
seen. This last is the most like a " home " of any royal 
residence in Germany, for, elegant as are all its furn- 
ishings and surroundings, it does not strike one as 
being too grand for everyday life. It has an air of 
comfort about it quite refreshing after witnessing the 
cold, stately and cheerless grandeur of the other pal- 
aces. Here the Princess Royal of England, the next 
Queen of Prussia in all probability, spent her honey- 
moon, and we saw in her apartments several speci- 
mens of her water-color drawings, which might well 
be mistaken for the work of a professed master of the 
art. 

Potsdam is a dull, though a very beautiful, place. 
It has only one or two hotels worthy the name, and 
those not large ones ; but we found the charges quite 
as large as the most pretentious establishments could 
make up. We left the place on the evening of the 
28th, bound per rail for Cologne, where we arrived 
next morning, after a very tedious and fatiguing ride. 
Thirteen hours' journey on the railway is a longer 
stretch than I would advise any traveler for pleasure 
in this country to take, for it is hardly possible but 



To Europe and Back. 53 

he must pass through places where he might profit- 
ably stop a day or so. We passed through several 
such, notably Magdeburg, a city of eighty thousand 
inhabitants, and a fortress of the first class, memor- 
able for its long resistance of several sieges in the 
Thirty Years' War, and for its capture, after two 
years' siege, by Tilly, who carried it by assault and 
slaughtered thirty thousand of its inhabitants with- 
out distinction of age or sex; Brunswick, a very an- 
cient and picturesque town of forty thousand people, 
the capital of the Duchy of the same name, contain- 
ing many objects worthy of the tourist's attention ; 
Hanover, a beautiful city with a population of seventy 
thousand, who pride themselves on speaking the pur- 
est German ; the old town of Minden, where the fa- 
mous battle was fought; and Dusseldorf, with its 
celebrated school of painting. At all these places we 
should have been glad to linger a little while, but we 
were anxious to reach the Rhine as quickly as possi- 
ble, not knowing how soon the chances of war might 
put a stop to our progress. 

I find a note made on leaving Potsdam (emphasize 
the last syllable) of nearly six dollars in gold paid for 
extra baggage; yet there were but three not very 
heavy pieces for two and a half passage tickets. 
Fancy paying such a sum between Buffalo and New 
York — a journey of about the same length — where 
as much baggage has always been allowed for two 
passengers. What growling there would be ! 



54 Rough Notes of a Trip 

Here, in this venerable old town of Cologne (spelt 
Coin, pronounced Keln, by the Germans), this is the 
third day of our sojourn. It is the most ancient and 
quaint-looking place I have ever seen, and the wonder 
to me is that the Guide-Books make so little account 
of it. Its Cathedral, alone, is worth a long journey 
to see. The history and appearance of this noble pile 
were tolerably familiar to me before I saw it — as 
they are also, doubtless, to most readers — but I was 
more than surprised by the reality, after all. Though 
begun in the thirteenth century, the plan of the old 
architect is hardly more than half completed. The 
two principal towers were to be five hundred feet 
high. The one upon which people are now at work 
is less than a fourth of that height. This is the new 
tower — the old one, on which but little has been 
done for centuries, is about one hundred and seventy 
feet high, and will have to be greatly repaired if the 
structure is ever completed, age or defective material 
having caused most of the fine work to crumble away. 
There is much hope that the present generation will 
see the original design carried out, the last two Kings 
of Prussia having taken deep interest in the work, 
and contributed very liberally toward it. An associ- 
ation has been established, having branches in all 
parts of Europe, for the purpose of collecting funds 
in behalf of this object. I saw, in the Museum, many 
pictures offered for sale, contributed by the artists 
for completing the Cathedral. If it ever is finished 



To Europe and Back. 55 

what a monument of Gothic architecture it will be, 
and what a pity it is that the name of its great de- 
signer has been lost ! Every visitor is afforded the 
opportunity to give something toward the great 
work: I hope no one fails to avail himself of it. 

Cologne is so old a city that its early history is lost 
in obscurity. Some idea of its antiquity may be 
formed from the fact that Agrippina, the mother of 
Nero, was born here, and that in the year 508, Clovis 
was here declared King of the Franks. Old as it is, 
it looks its age every day of it, and it smells older yet. 
I think some of the original scents of the ancient Ro- 
mans must be preserved to this day. And I saw old 
women crawling about the streets who might have 
been the mothers of its founders. As we passed out 
of the Church of St. Ursula and the Eleven Thousand 
Virgins, we came upon an old crone so withered and 
so hideous that I would have believed her at once if 
she had asserted that she was one of the Eleven Thou- 
sand, spared by the barbarians on account of her re- 
markable ugliness. In this old church the bones and 
skulls of the Eleven Thousand Virgins are preserved, 
packed with horrible ingenuity into the walls, so that 
the church may be said to be lined with them. Many 
niches and open spaces are left, filled with the bones 
and covered with glass ; the ghastly relics are thus 
visible everywhere to the eye, forming an exhibition 
as strange as it is disgusting. The legend is that St. 
Ursula (supposed to be a Princess of Britany) and her 



56 Hough Notes of a Trip 

virgin train, on their return from a pilgrimage to 
Rome, were slaughtered at Cologne by the Huns, be- 
cause they refused to break their vows of chastity. 
In one little room, called the Golden Chamber, the 
skulls of a good many of the more favored compan- 
ions of the sainted Ursula are preserved. They are 
encased in silver, and arranged on shelves, looking 
more like a lot of heathen fetishes or gods than the 
heads of pretty Christian virgins. Eleven thousand 
is rather a staggering number, certainly, but I should 
think I saw bones enough to make that many skele- 
tons, and if they are not the remains of the Virgins 
no one knows what they are, and therefore I am de- 
termined to pin my faith to the legend. We were 
shown many other curious relics in that Golden 
Chamber, among others one of the stone jars in 
which the water was turned into wine at the Mar- 
riage in Cana. No one should doubt the authenticity 
of the stories about these relics, because, if you do, 
you see, away goes all the interest in looking at 
them! 

There are several other curious old churches in Co- 
logne. One, St. Gereon's, begun in 1066, is lined 
with the bones of six thousand martyrs slain on this 
spot during the persecution of Diocletian. They are 
rather proud of their old bones, it appears, in the 
Churches here. Another, the Apostles' Church, be- 
gun in 1020, has one of the lightest and pleasantest 
interiors which it is possible to conceive, notwith- 



To Eurojpe and Bach. 57 

standing its great age. Another, the Church of St. 
Peter, is chiefly noted from containing as its altar- 
piece, a famous painting by Rubens, representing the 
crucifixion of that sturdy old apostle, with his head 
downward. It is only a copy which the visitors see 
until a fee of about half-a-dollar is paid to the sacris- 
tan; then the frame is swung round, exposing on the 
back the great original. It is a wonderful picture, 
of course, but by no means a pleasant thing to look 
at notwithstanding. It is said that Rubens regarded 
it as his best work. 

But the interesting features of Cologne are by no 
means limited to its churches. One might wander 
for days about its crooked and narrow old streets, 
and still find something to interest him, though I 
think he would need plenty of the JEau de Cologne to 
reconcile his nose to the task. I saw streets so nar- 
row — if, indeed, they could be called streets — that 
people could shake hands from the upper windows of 
the houses on opposite sides. The city is built on the 
left bank of the Rhine, going down, and is connected 
with the opposite shore by a bridge of boats which 
opens to let vessels pass through, and by a magnifi- 
cent iron railway bridge, under which steamers can 
pass. Though I date my letter from Cologne we are 
stopping on the right bank, exactly opposite, at the 
Hotel Bellevue, which affords a magnificent view of 
Cologne. This place is called Deutz, and is to Co- 
logne what Brooklyn is to New York, only much 



58 Rough Notes of a Trip 

nearer. Here we have more than all the advantages 
of a stay in the larger city, and are away from its vile 
smells. 

The classic Rhine flows rapidly between these two 
places, and the scene presents an ever-varying pano- 
rama of remarkable beauty. I enjoyed a swim in the 
river yesterday, but witnessed a sight this morning 
which will prevent my repeating the experiment, as I 
had intended to do before I go away. Leaning over 
the garden wall of the hotel, and looking up the 
stream, I saw a boat coming toward me in which were 
two men. They had something in tow — I could not 
make out what it was — floating behind the boat. 
People were following on the shore, and, as the boat 
neared where I was, an official stopped them at a point 
above where it was to land. Two men came along 
carrying a stretcher, and then, suddenly, the scene in 
the opening chapter of "Our Mutual Friend" was 
realized to me. The dead body of a man who had 
been drowned while bathing three days before was 
floated to the shore, placed upon the stretcher, and 
carried away. It was a horrible incident, which I 
should have avoided the sight of, had I known what 
it was a moment earlier than I did. 

I think we leave this city to-morrow, bound up the 
Rhine, but with no settled plans as to stopping places, 
for the war may bring us to a sudden halt at any 
point. I wish I could give you some news of the war 
which would be interesting, but I cannot. On the 



To Europe and Back. 59 

evening of the 29th a salute was fired at the fort ad- 
joining this house, on account of the victory which 
the Prussians claim at the late battle in Bohemia. I 
observe that the Austrians claim the victory also: 
perhaps both were whipped. The latter power has 
certainly given the Italians a severe repulse in Vene- 
tia. But I will give you no particulars of either affair, 
knowing you will get them from the same source that 
I would, and in advance of this. It appears that the 
conflict is widening, and it is hardly possible that any 
German power, or France either for that matter, 
will be able to maintain neutrality. The result will 
be a good one, I hope: the wiping out of all the petty 
German potentates, and the consolidation of all 
Northern Germany under Prussian rule, and of all 
Southern Germany under Austrian dominion. If 
Italy succeeds in securing Venetia, and France does 
not get any of the Rhine country, the world should 
be satisfied, I think. This would be rather hard on 
the poor little Dukes and Kings, but the better for 
mankind. 

One of our party was in Berlin a day later than we 
were, when the news of the battle was received there. 
The excitement and enthusiasm were immense. The 
King came out and spoke to the crowd, and was 
loudly cheered. But Bismarck was the hero of the 
hour. When he appeared, the scene became an 
ovation, and the moment must have been a proud 
and happy one for him. It is his war : his po- 



60 Rough Notes of a Trip 

litical fortunes are staked upon the result. If Prus- 
sia succeeds, he will become a national idol, second 
only to the great Frederick. If Austria wins, woe 
to Bismarck. In any event, I believe the Prussian 
people are sure to secure a freer and better govern- 
ment than they have hitherto enjoyed; and if this is 
the result in North Germany, Austria will hardly be 
able to maintain her despotic sway. 

Speaking of our party : it is a pretty large one — 
sixteen Americans in all, who were in Dresden to- 
gether a week, were together in the flight from that 
place, and have been together ever since. There is 
so little travel in Germany this season that we leave 
a large vacancy at all the hotels when we go away. 
We find it quite pleasant to keep together. One 
party contributes a little German, another a little 
French, and all have plenty of vigorous English at 
command; so we get along nicely. We may take dif- 
ferent routes soon, but I think each of us hopes that 
we shall all meet again. 

Meanwhile, good-bye for the present. 



To Europe and Bach. 61 



V. 



LAST WORDS ABOUT COLOGNE. — THE " SERVICE " NUISANCE. 
— A TRIP UP THE RHINE AND A RAPID GLANCE AT SOME 
OF ITS FAMOUS PLACES. — WIESBADEN, ITS WATERS AND 
ITS HELL. — FRANKFORT AND HOMBURG. — THE WAR EX- 
CITEMENT. — ARRIVAL AT HEIDELBERG. 

Heidelberg, July 8th, 1866. 
I mailed my last letter at Cologne, of which fragrant 
old town we took leave the day following. Before 
speaking of our trip up the Rhine, however, I am 
moved to say a few last words about Cologne. It is, 
as I said in my last, an exceedingly interesting city, 
but, as far as my experience goes, one of the most 
expensive places at which the traveler can sojourn. 
In respect to the charges for admission to " sights," it 
reminds one strongly of Niagara Falls, as that place 
used to be when a "quarter" was demanded by some- 
body every time one turned around. We found the 
hotel charges, too, higher here than at any other city 
we had visited, though, it must be admitted, the fare 
and attendance were better than usual. 
4 



62 Rough Notes of a Trip 






Here, I bethink me, would be as good a place as 
any to ease my mind upon a point which has been 
felt, I am sure, by every American traveler in Ger- 
many. I allude to the annoyance to which one is 
subjected at leaving a hotel, by the array of servants 
who waylay him upon the stairs, in the hall, and at 
the carriage door, all expectant of a fee, and all plain- 
ly expressing their feelings, at least by looks and 
shrugs, if they are disappointed. To be obliged to 
run the gauntlet of this hungry throng is an ordeal 
more to be dreaded than packing of trunks, or any 
other unpleasant incidents which alloy the pleasures 
of traveling. And it is the more annoying from the 
fact that one has only a few minutes before found a 
good round charge for "service" at the end of every 
day's items in his hotel bill. " Oh, lord," said one of 
our party to me recently, as we drove away from a 
hotel, "I shall die of this before I get to Switzerland! 
I can't get used to it. I don't want to appear mean, 
and yet I don't want to be imposed upon — but it is 
wearing me to a shadow ! " She was exhausted and 
out of breath, but found it again when I asked what 
was the matter. " The matter ! " she exclaimed. 
" Why, these servants — they will be the death of me. 
I thought I would be systematic about it this time. 
I paid the portier and the head waiter when I ordered 
my bill. Then I rung for the chambermaid and paid 
her. Then I sent for the little smooth-faced waiter, 
who had been so polite to me, and paid him liberally. 



To Europe and Back. 63 

These were the only servants who had done anything 
for me, except the man who handled my trunks, and 
him I expected to pay at the last moment, and flat- 
tered myself he would be the last. But what do you 
suppose that treacherous little villain — the smooth- 
faced smiling little villain of a waiter — did ? I had 
given him a thaler, but was he grateful? No. He 
got a lot of other servants who had never shown their 
faces since I had been in the house, and when I left 
my room there they were in the hall, all in a row, 
bowing and scraping to me, and wishing me c much 
pleasure.' There were so many of them that I had 
not change enough left to give each something — so 
I could only thank them and return their bows. At 
last I rushed away, my face all in a blaze, and jumped 
into the carriage, forgetting, in my desperation, to 
pay the baggage man after all ! Oh, it is dreadful, 
dreadful ! " 

I have no doubt this lady's description of her expe- 
rience will be recognized and corroborated by all tra- 
velers in Europe who may chance to see it. I could 
say more upon the subject, but it is a more than 
twice-told tale, and I will therefore end it here. 

We had picked out from the advertisement of a 
f JRhein-Dampfschiff-fahrt " (so in the vernacular, 
and mind you spell it right), the name of the little 
steamer we had to take, and at ten o'clock were on 
board. Then began our trip " Up the Rhine," that 
beautiful river whose charms have been so often sung, 



64 Rough Notes of a Trip 

and so well sung that I am afraid to even join in the 
chorus. What I do venture to say, therefore, of our 
trip, shall have at least the merit of brevity. For 
many miles after we left Cologne I think there was a 
general feeling of disappointment in our party. The 
scenery was beautiful, it is true, but it lacked those 
grand and romantic features which we had been 
taught to expect. Our own noble Hudson was re- 
membered with pride, and we thought that glorious 
river only needed to be as well known to be as loudly 
sung and as universally admired as the classic Rhine. 
As the first day wore on, however, this somewhat 
dissatisfied state of mind disappeared; the scenery 
became grander, more like what we had imagined it 
would be, and before we landed at Coblenz, in the 
evening, all were willing to admit that the day had 
been one of surprising enjoyment, and that such a 
magnificent panorama of scenery as we had been pass- 
ing for hours, was not anywhere else to be seen: not 
even in America. 

Yet it must be admitted that much of the charm 
that belongs to the Rhine is due to the legends and 
romances which add an interest to every crag and 
mountain and ruin along its banks. Grand as is the 
view at every bend of the noble river — picturesque 
as are the ruins which stud every mountain slope — 
the stories of old-time romance are necessary to the 
completeness of the picture, and there is no crag 
or mountain or ruin without such a story. I had 



To Europe and Bach. 65 

thought to transcribe these stories for you — or at 
least such of them as most interested me — but time 
and space alike forbid. I am quite satisfied that the 
limit to which I confine myself is too contracted for 
the purpose, even if I had the skill to arrange the 
material, which is so embarrassingly abundant, into 
a pleasing shape. I comfort myself with the thought 
that my letters may be useful for what they do not 
tell — that is, they may, from their very poverty of 
description, induce my readers to look elsewhere for 
what is not to be found in them. I shall at least 
show others how not to write up the Rhine. 

I will just tantalize you a little, though, with the 
names of a few of the memorable places we passed 
in our two days 5 trip up the river. First, after leav- 
ing Cologne, came Bonn, an old town of near twenty 
thousand inhabitants, with a great University at 
which the late Prince " Albert the Good " was a stu- 
dent; a Cathedral which is surmounted by five 
towers, and was founded by Helena the mother of 
Constantine the Great, a fact which will give you 
an idea of its antiquity ; in the vicinity are many in- 
teresting objects to attract the tourist, amongst them 
a little chapel on the summit of the mountain, con- 
taining the sacred stairs of Pilate's Judgment Hall, 
still bearing the stains of the blood which fell from 
the Saviour's brow, caused by the Crown of Thorns! 
No one is allowed to ascend these stairs except on 
bended knees. 



66 Rough Notes of a Trip 

Soon after, we pass the Seven Mountains, the most 
interesting of the group being "The Castled. Crag. of 
Drachenfels," so beautifully described by Byron : 

" The castled crag of Drachenfels 

Frowns o'er the wide and winding Ehine, 
Whose breast of waters broadly swells 

Between the banks which bear the vine ; 
And hills all rich with blossom'd trees, 

And fields which promise corn and wine, 
And scattered cities crowning these, 

Whose far white walls along them shine, 
Have strew'd a scene which I shonld see 
With double joy wert thou with me." 

Here we ought to have stopped at least a day, so 
many points of interest are there in the neighborhood 
which the traveler ought to explore ; but inexorable 
haste forbade this, and the little steamer carried us 
along, past the Castle of Rolandseck, where Roland, 
a nephew of Charlemagne, lived a hermit for many 
years, in sight of the Convent of Nonnen worth with- 
in whose walls his betrothed bride had taken the veil 
on hearing a false report of his death. This story is 
the subject of one of Schiller's most beautiful ballads. 
In rapid succession we pass old villages — wonder- 
fully small of their age; more "castled crags" and 
terraced hills ; indeed, we are fairly tired out with 
looking at the places famous in song and story which 
are strung together on the banks of the Rhine, all the 
way to Coblenz, where we stop for the night. 

Coblenz is quite an important old town, strongly 



To Europe and Back. 67 

fortified, the capital of the Rhenish provinces of Prus- 
sia. Here the Moselle enters the Rhine, and directly- 
opposite is the famous fortress of Ehrenbreitstein, the 
Gibraltar of the Rhine, a work of wonderful strength 
and as picturesque as it is strong. It is said the 
Prussians are constantly adding to the strength and 
resources of this fortress. Just now they are special- 
ly active, and strangers are not allowed to inspect 
the place. Coblenz is a very nice town to lose one- 
self in, and some of our party did not fail to avail 
themselves of the opportunity in the evening. An- 
other river, the Lahn, pours its waters into the Rhine 
at Coblenz, and the trade of the three rivers adds 
much to the business of the town. It is the great 
centre of the trade in the Rhine and Moselle wines. 
One merchant's cellars are so wide and lofty that a 
stage-coach loaded might easily drive round in them. 
I must not, however, occupy my space with par- 
ticulars which can be found in " Murray," unless I 
wish to keep you on the Rhine longer than I was — 
which I do not. We left Coblenz the next morning, 
and soon found that we had the most interesting part 
of the Rhine yet to see. I have no language to de- 
scribe its beauties. I find notes of the Stolzenfels 
castle, where Isabella, sister of Henry III. of Eng- 
land and bride of the Emperor Frederick II., was 
lodged with a splendid retinue in 1235; the castle of 
Lahneck, of which Goethe sung in his verses, " Geis- 
ter Gruss;" Boppart, a town built by the Romans; 



68 Rough Notes of a Trip 

the twin castles of Sternberg and Liebenstein, built 
by two brothers who were in love with the same 
lady, the legend says, and a very sad legend it is; 
the fortress of Rheinfels, the most extensive ruin on 
the Rhine, built on a rock three hundred and sixty- 
eight feet above the river; the castle of Schonberg 
(Beautiful Hill), which received its name, according 
to the story, from seven beautiful but hard-hearted 
daughters of the house, who turned the heads of all 
the young knights but would not marry any of them, 
and were therefore changed into seven rocks, still to 
be seen when the water is low ; the old castle of Stah- 
leck, which was the seat of the Electors Palatine till 
the middle of the thirteenth century; the castle of 
Rheinstein, which has been restored as near as possi- 
ble to its original condition, and is now a summer 
residence of Prince Frederick of Prussia; the little 
square Mouse Tower, to which the wicked Bishop 
Hatto fled in vain from the rats, after he had burned 
up the poor famished people who had come into his 
barn on his promise to give them corn — 

" ' I' faith 'tis an excellent bonfire ! ' quoth he, 
' And the country is greatly obliged to me 
For ridding it, in these times forlorn, 
Of rats that only consume the corn.' " 

You> and all my readers, are doubtless familiar with 
Southey's splendid poetical version of the legend — 
how the next day a servant came to tell the Bishop 



To Europe and Back. 69 

that the rats had devoured all his corn — how another 
came to bid him fly, " ten thousand rats are coming 
this way ! " — how he did fly to this tower, and how 
the rats followed him there, " in at the window, and 
in at the door," thousands and thousands of them : — 

" They have whetted their teeth against the stones, 
And now they pick the Bishop's bones; 
They gnaw'd the flesh from every limb, 
For they were sent to do justice on him." 

There was nothing about the appearance of the 
Mouse Tower to attract attention. A queer little 
tower, like a thick chimney poking out of the water, 
we should have passed it without notice if we had not 
been constantly on the look-out, guide book in hand, 
for memorable places. And so with many other ob- 
jects of which we have all heard: it should be frankly 
admitted that the legend, song or story gave the im- 
pulse to look for them. It was a showery day, this 
last of ours on the Rhine, and there was a constant 
running out of the cabin on the little steamer to look 
at some famous spot, and running in again to get out 
of the wet. Little groups gathered to listen to the 
story of " the next place to look at " (for there was 
one in the party who read well — and well she knew 
it), whilst some one who cared not for the rain (or 
the reading, either, I fear), kept watch, and gave no- 
tice when the boat brought us in sight of the spot. 
Now and then, as we stopped at a venerable old 



70 Rough Notes of a Trip 

town, some would run on shore "just to say they had 
been in " such and such a place. So we went to 
" Bingen on the Rhine," and so we went to many 
other famous places which we saw that day on the 
glorious river. It would only aggravate you, no 
less than myself, were I to barely enumerate them. 
As we passed the hills where grow the precious wines 
of Rudesheim and Johannisberg — the latter an es- 
tate belonging to Prince Metternich, the vineyard 
containing only sixty acres — we could only marvel 
as we thought how much wine is produced from this 
little patch, if all the labels are true ! Happy is the 
man who gets a taste of the genuine. 

Shortly after passing Johannisberg the banks of the 
Rhine become less interesting. The country begins 
to grow flat, and passengers for pleasure seldom as- 
cend further than Mayence, a few miles above. Our 
party left the river at Biberich, very near Johannis- 
berg, and took carriages for Wiesbaden, where we 
arrived at about eight o'clock in the evening, quite 
satisfied that we had not half "done" the Rhine. 
Pray accept this confession that my description of 
what we did " do " is a still smaller moiety of that. 
If the reader is half as dissatisfied with it as the 
writer is, I feel sympathy for him. 

But though we spent only two days on the river, 
we were, I am happy to say, some time longer in the 
Rhine country. Wiesbaden is between three and four 
miles from the river. Here we stayed two days, long 






To Europe and Bach. 71 

enough to see the place pretty thoroughly. It is the 
capital of the Duchy of Nassau, and has about twenty 
thousand inhabitants. Its mineral waters and baths 
are among the most celebrated on the continent, and 
thirty thousand visitors during the season are attract- 
ed hither, ostensibly in search of health, but many of 
them in reality come to gamble. The "hell" is one 
of the most extensive in Germany, and its " bank," I 
am told, has never been broke. 

The gaming is carried on at the Kursaal, the most 
remarkable building in the place, of vast dimensions. 
It is fitted up most magnificently, and is the centre of 
attraction in the town, containing, in addition to the 
gaming rooms, a great saloon for dancing, reading 
rooms, a splendid restauratio?i and supper rooms. 
Attached to it are beautiful gardens, extensive enough 
to be called a park almost, with walks, fountains, 
lakes and terraces, all brilliantly illuminated in the 
evening. Here the visitors can sit in the open air 
and enjoy their ices and coffee, whilst a splendid band 
"discourses most excellent music." Admittance is 
entirely free, yet the most perfect order is preserved. 
The restauration is conducted upon the Parisian prin- 
ciple, and we found that a capital dinner could here 
be obtained at very moderate cost, everything, wine 
included, being of the finest quality and served at the 
lowest cost. All this, of course, is to make the Kur- 
saal more attractive ; but the liberality of the pro- 
prietors of the tables is by no means limited to that 



72 Bough Notes of a Trip 

establishment. The town is beautified with foun- 
tains, statues and fine buildings, to all of which they 
have been the principal contributors. In fact, with- 
out its " hell " Weisbaden would be too dull a place 
for summer resort, even though its waters should be 
the best in the world. 

Play goes on continually, from morning till night, 
beginning at noon, I believe, and ending at midnight. 
This season there are fewer visitors than ever before, 
on account of the war, but it appeared to me that the 
tables were full all the time. Not a loud word is 
spoken in the play-rooms : the everlasting wheel is 
whirling around, the cards are being constantly dis- 
tributed, the players silently deposit their stakes 
upon their chosen color or number, but no noise is 
heard. I watched the play and the players. It is a 
fascinating excitement, and the chances of winning 
appear so fair that it requires strong principles to re- 
sist the desire to try "just once." When the rooms 
are crowded and play runs high, the excitement is 
feverish, but still quite silent. Many people pass 
most of their waking hours at the tables, I am told. 
At least one fourth of the players are women. I saw 
one very old, white-haired, toothless, almost palsied 
female, who, it was said, played regularly every day. 
She was sitting with little piles of gold and silver be- 
fore her, and keeping notes of the result of every 
game. Now and then with trembling hand she 
placed her money on the board, apparently with the 



To Europe and Back. 73 

greatest system, but whether she won or lost her face 
gave no visible sign. Near her sat a man and his 
wife — " both were young, and she was fair." They 
also were regular players, and quite wealthy. She 
kept notes whilst he made calculations. Next them 
a man so thin, so sallow and gaunt, that he might 
have served for an image of death. His face was an 
anatomical study, so tightly drawn was every muscle. 
He looked like a poor man, yet he played with gold 
pieces entirely. But I must take you away from this 
demoralizing spectacle. 

At Wiesbaden the party of sixteen, who had been 
together a month, broke up — some going one way, 
some another. Our Buffalo friends were intending 
to spend some weeks in the neighborhood of the 
Baths, and I would have been glad to stay with them, 
but my holiday was fast running away, and I was 
mindful of a certain promise not to overstay it; and 
there was Switzerland, France and England yet to be 
visited, according to my plans. For these reasons I 
broke away quite suddenly one evening and went to 
Frankfort-on-the-Maine, about an hour's ride per rail 
from Wiesbaden. 

At Frankfort I noted very little to write about, 
though the town is one of the most important of any 
I have visited. Here is the original of the great 
banking houses of the Rothschild family. A little 
business took me to the institution two or three times, 
and the thing I most admired about it was the per- 



74 Rough Notes of a Trip 

feet politeness with which every one was treated by 
the clerks. I was groping my way along the dark 
halls, looking at the inscriptions on the doors, trying 
to find the proper " bureau " for my business. A 
clerk came out with a handful of papers. " Can I 
have the pleasure of assisting you, sir?" said he with 
a polite bow. It seems to me that I remember two 
or three young bank clerks not far from Buffalo who 
might take a lesson from this incident. Immense as 
is the business of the house, the smallest customers 
are treated with as much apparent consideration as 
the most important. 

The pride of Frankfort, in an artistic sense, is Don- 
naker's great statue of Ariadne, which is exhibited 
at a villa near one of the town gates. It is a truly 
beautiful work, so familiar to everybody from the 
pretty little statuettes of it to be seen at every shop 
where such things are sold, that a description of it 
would be superfluous. Its greatest peculiarity to me 
was the difficulty to decide, as it was turned slowly 
around on its revolving pedestal, from which point of 
view it was most to be admired. From Frankfort 
we made a carriage excursion to Homburg, about ten 
miles, another fashionable gambling and watering 
place, where the Kursaal is more magnificent still 
than at Weisbaden, and brings all the business there 
is done at the place. It is a town of hotels and lodg- 
ing houses, and, like Weisbaden, has no other depend- 
ence for an existence than the visits of invalids and 



To Europe and Back. 75 

gamblers. In case the Prussians obtain all these mi- 
nor States in North Germany one good result will 
surely grow out of it — viz : the closing of these le- 
galized " hells." 

A great deal of excitement was manifested at 
Frankfort, which is the capital of the German Con- 
federation, over the news of the tremendous defeat 
of the Austrians under Marshal Benedek in Bohemia. 
Here we heard that the Emperor Francis Joseph had 
ceded Venetia to France, and that the latter power 
had made a demand on Prussia to consent to an ar- 
mistice. Poor Austria ! If she could only have done 
this in the beginning, the war, as well as her great 
humiliation, might have been avoided. Francis Jo- 
seph says that the honor of the Austrian arms being 
vindicated by the great victory in Venetia, he can 
consent to negotiations. Fine words ! — but how 
different is the actual state of the case ! The Prus- 
sians are very mad at Napoleon's intervention — 
some of them so very mad as to declare that Victor 
Emmanuel gave the victory to Austria in order to 
bring about this action of the Emperor. What an 
absurd notion ! 

From Frankfort we took the train to Heidelburg, 
where we arrived at midnight, and here I stop this 
letter. 



76 Rough Notes of a Trip 



VI. 



HEIDELBERG, ITS TRADITIONS, ITS CASTLE AND ITS QUARREL- 
SOME STUDENTS. — A POOR SCHOLAR. — STRASBURG, ITS 
CATHEDRAL AND THE WONDERFUL CLOCK. — A BRIEF TRIP 
IN SWITZERLAND, AND SOME BRIEFER NOTES ABOUT IT. — 
THE ALPS. 

Geneva, Switzerland, July 19, 1866. 

The last has been a very busy week with me, and 
I shall find it somewhat difficult to give you even a 
dim idea of all we have seen in that brief period, in 
one letter, though that should prove anything but 
brief. My last letter took you with me to Heidel- 
berg, I believe, where it rather abruptly closed, being 
finished, as I had not time to tell you then, whilst a 
carriage was waiting to take us to the railway sta- 
tion. Most of my writing is done in the midst of 
hurry and bustle, or else when I ought to be in bed 
and asleep: unfavorable circumstances which I pray 
my readers to take into account. 

Although we spent too little time in Heidelberg to 
be able to give you anything like an adequate idea 



To Europe and Back. 77 

of the beauties of the place, we made the most of 
what time we did have. We drove up the Kbnig- 
stuhl (King's stool), the highest hill in the vicinity, 
which almost deserves the more dignified name of 
mountain. On the summit is a lofty tower of one 
hundred and thirty-seven steps, from which we ob- 
tained a most charming view. Before us were spread 
the valleys of the Rhine and the Neckar, which latter 
river runs through the town. In the distance were 
the Haardt mountains and the ridge of the Black 
Forest. We were told that the spire of the Stras- 
burg cathedral — ninety miles off — could be seen 
from this tower, but we certainly did not see it, 
though we had the aid of a pretty good glass, and it 
was a bright, clear day. The entire hill was covered 
with a luxuriant growth of trees, thousands upon 
thousands of chestnuts of enormous size being then in 
full blossom. On the way up the hill, we had stopped 
at the Wolf's Brunnen, a lovely little retired nook 
with a pretty spring which gives the place its name. 
It was here, according to tradition, that the great en- 
chantress Jetta, who lived on the spot, was torn in 
pieces by a wolf. There was a cosy little tavern, and 
hard by were several ponds in which were vast quan- 
tities of trout of all sizes — the biggest by themselves. 
We saw them fed. In the third pond, great hungry 
monsters of five and six pounds weight came leaping 
out of the water when the bait was thrown. I think 
thare must have been thousands of trout in this pond. 



78 Rough Notes of a Trip 

The house is famous for them and its beer. You order 
trout and beer. They catch the trout, and whilst the 
cooking is going on you sharpen your appetite with 
beer of delicious flavor, which is given to you in bot- 
tles taken out of a cave or cellar cut in the solid rock. 
I don't like beer — think it a stupid, heavy, and mawk- 
ish sort of drink, generally speaking — but I found a 
big glass of this cool, light beer was not too big. 

On this same hill — or rather at the foot of it, but 
still considerably above the town — stands the famous 
castle of Heidelberg, one of the most imposing and 
interesting ruins in Europe. I presume all your read- 
ers have seen pictures of it. It has a history too long 
for this place. We spent some hours about the ruins 
and grounds, and would like to have spent days. 
Parts of the castle are still inhabited, and the grounds 
and gardens are kept in very good order. You have 
heard of the great Heidelberg tun, the largest wine 
cask in the world — thirty-six feet long and twenty- 
five feet high — holding eight hundred hogsheads, or 
considerably over a quarter of a million of bottles ! 
It is in the cellars of this castle, and is one of the 
great sights of the place. I could hardly realize the 
immensity of its size until I had walked round it, 
from the bottom to the top, in the gallery which en- 
circles it. But, alas ! it has been empty for the last 
century ! 

Heidelberg has suffered from the horrors of war to 
a greater extent than almost any town in Europe, and 



To Europe and Back. 79 

yet it does not appear to love a quiet life yet. At 
least the students of its famous University are a very 
quarrelsome set. We saw a little inn where they 
fight their duels, and were told that four or five of 
these encounters sometimes take place in a single 
day, and that it is no uncommon thing for a student 
to have been engaged in twenty or thirty, as princi- 
pal, in the course of four or five years. Fortunately 
fatal results do not often follow. It appeared to me 
that these duels were regarded as one of the institu- 
tions of the town. Almost everybody spoke of them, 
and pictures of such a contest were everywhere to be 
seen. At the shops where such things were sold, it 
was thought so much a matter of course that tourists 
must want one of these pictures as a memento of 
Heidelberg that I made a point of refusing, in my 
obstinate may, you know. There are about seven 
hundred students in the University, and they certain- 
ly appear to outnumber the rest of the inhabitants. 

While we were exploring the castle, as I had al- 
most forgotten to note, we observed a very fine- 
looking and well-dressed young man on the terrace, 
apparently admiring the beauties of the scene. He 
approached and surprised me with a request for as- 
sistance, saying he was on his travels and out of 
money. I was told that such incidents were of fre- 
quent occurrence. Scholars and students start off on 
a tour on foot and depend for their expenses upon 
the success of appeals of this kind, and no one thinks 



80 Rough Notes of a Trip 

any shame is involved in the transaction, except, in- 
deed, to any one who is able and refuses to assist 
them. 

From Heidelberg we made an excursion to Stras- 
burg, solely to see the great Cathedral, and I need 
hardly tell you that we felt well repaid for the visit. 
The spire of the Cathedral is the highest in the world, 
being nearly five hundred feet above the pavement. 
When I tell you that I panted my way up three hun- 
dred and twenty-eight steps on a mortal hot day, 
knowing my constitutional objection to labor of that 
sort, you will not be surprised to hear that I would 
not go any higher, though I was still only half way 
up to the pinnacle. I was glad to stop and rest, sur- 
veying the scene the while, which was hardly worth 
the exertion it had cost. Mostly the chimney tops 
and blackened roofs of Strasburg, with here and there 
a solitary stork standing on one leg, " monarch of all 
he surveyed," and looking as proud and complacent, 
perched up there, as though the house had been built 
specially to afford a good foundation for his nest. 
When I had recovered breath I could not sufficiently 
admire the singular beauty of the airy lace-work of 
stone, now more clearly to be seen, which is the con- 
spicuous characteristic of the Cathedral tower. If 
the original design had been carried out, there would 
be two towers of equal height. Only one is com- 
plete : the other probably never will be. Modern art 
dreads to compete with those sturdy stone-workers 



To Europe and Back. 81 

of old, whose wonderfully original conceptions were 
so skillfully and daringly executed that one knows 
not which most to admire — the beauty of the design, 
the perfection of the workmanship, or the persever- 
ance and bravery which must have been displayed in 
overcoming the engineering difficulties involved in 
doing such massive work at such immense heights. 
Think of it ! This perfect piece of architecture was 
designed six hundred years ago. How little progress 
has art made in that direction in all these centuries ! 
If all other branches of human acquirements had stood 
as still where would the world be now ? It is an in- 
teresting fact in the history of this Cathedral that the 
work was continued after the death of the architect, 
Erwin of Steinbach, by his son, and afterward by his 
daughter Sabina. She was a sculptor as well as an ar- 
chitect, and carved several statues for the interior 
which still remain to attest her skill. They are very 
quaint-looking pieces of work. A statue of Sabina 
herself stands in one of the porches. This whole fam- 
ily of architects were buried within the Cathedral. 

The people of Strasburg have preserved such por- 
tions of the ornamental work of the Cathedral as have 
had to be restored on account of decay. We inspect- 
ed a very large number of interesting relics of this 
character in an ancient house near the Cathedral, said 
to have been erected in the eighth century. The 
great architect himself lived in this house, and it has 
an elegant Gothic winding staircase of stone, worked 



82 Rough Notes of a Trip 

from the master's own design. Here is preserved the 
wonderful old clock which, after remaining for some 
centuries, became unable to perform its work. It 
was removed, and another, precisely like it in respect 
to mechanical contrivances but much more perfect in 
workmanship, has been constructed. We were among 
a curious crowd in the Cathedral, who gathered at 
noon to see it strike. As the hand pointed to the 
hour a figure representing Childhood passes in front 
of an image of Death and strikes the first quarter on 
a bell ; then follows Youth striking the second, Man- 
hood the third, and Old Age the fourth. Death 
strikes the hour. This much is done every hour ; but 
at noon, in addition to this, the figures of the twelve 
Apostles are seen slowly passing in front of an image 
of the Saviour, who blesses them as they bow before 
him. During this time a cock, twice life-size, flaps 
his wings and crows three times, a wonderful imita- 
tion of nature. This extraordinary clock is about 
twenty feet high, and is as beautiful in appearance as 
it is wonderful in its working. It has a perpetual 
calendar with the movable feasts, an orrery after the 
Copernican system showing the tropical revolutions 
of the planets, the phases of the moon, the eclipses of 
the sun and moon calculated forever, the true time 
and the siderial time, and many other astronomical 
particulars which I have not room to give. 

We left Strasburg without tasting one of its famous 
pies, and in about four hours were in Switzerland, 



To Europe and Back. 83 

stopping first at Basle, one of the richest towns of 
the Republic, situated on the Rhine at the junction 
of the frontiers of Germany, France and Switzerland. 
Here we tarried two days, more for the purpose of 
rest than because there was anything particularly in- 
teresting -about the place. The Rhine flowed beneath 
our windows in a swifter current than I had else- 
where seen it, and we could look up and down the 
stream a long distance, obtaining either way a charm- 
ing view. At this place I find I made but very few 
notes, and there was only one incident which secured 
a place in my memory, but that I will give you. 
First, how r ever, you must know that I had begun to 
pride myself not a little on the facility with which I 
had been able to make myself understood by people 
unacquainted with my speech, through a pretty free 
use of my hands and other dumb language. Indeed, 
I had achieved quite a reputation in our party as a 
pantomimist, and was often appealed to when all 
other means of communicating with the natives had 
proved of no avail. Well, this self-conceit received a 
heavy blow at Basle, from which it has never entirely 
recovered. We were driving into the suburbs some 
miles to visit Birseck Castle, a curious old ruin near 
Arlesheim. The day was hot and the way was dusty. 
We met a woman with a basket of fine juicy-looking 
cherries, refreshing to look at. We wanted some. I 
stopped the driver and explained to him by signs, 
which I had begun to think infallible, that he should 



84 



Rough Notes of a Trip 



call the woman back. u Ja wohl!" said he, nodding 
his head a dozen times, as much as to say he under- 
stood me perfectly. He got down, went back, and (I 
was already beginning to select money to pay for the 
cherries) — put up the top of the carriage ! When 
he returned to his seat he looked so proud of having 
understood me so quickly that I had not the heart to 
undeceive him, especially as the woman and the cher- 
ries in the meantime were half a mile behind us. But 
I have not bragged so much about my " signs" work- 
ing wonders since that incident. 

From Basle to Berne was a four-hours' ride, through 
a beautiful and mountainous country which realized 
to us that we were in Switzerland at last. The rail- 
way has many tunnels : one, said to be the longest 
in the world, the train was nearly six minutes in run- 
ning through. The route takes a very zigzag course 
all the way, but always with some charming land- 
scape in view. It would require more space than you 
can spare me were I to attempt a description of this 
wonderfully beautiful country, even as seen from the 
railway, and I shall therefore condense into brief para- 
graphs many things about which I could with greater 
ease fill pages. Realize to yourself that in order to 
make my letters keep pace with my travels, I must, in 
the remainder of this epistle, tell of nearly a week in 
Switzerland, and then you will not wonder that I am 
so strongly inclined to abandon the task entirely. 

I shall never forget my first impressions as a mag- 



To Europe and Back. 85 

nificent view of the entire chain of the Bernese Alps 
was spread before us when the train had nearly 
reached Berne. The day was beautifully clear, the 
sky blue and cloudless, and the outlines of the snow- 
capped mountains were so sharp and distinct that one 
found it difficult to realize that they were still nearly 
forty miles distant. But the snow did not look like 
snow. The glow of the sun was upon the face of the 
mountains, and I fancied they were of pure burnished 
silver, and that I saw them through a veil of gold. 
Or, perhaps, if I compare them to a pile of fleecy 
clouds tinged with the rays of the setting sun, you 
will have a clearer idea of the mountains as they first 
appeared to me. 

The commanding views of the Alps and the snow- 
clad peaks of the Bernese Oberland which are to be 
had in clear weather from almost every open space in 
the city, form the great attraction of Berne to the 
tourist, though it is a very interesting town aside 
from this. It is the capital of the Swiss Republic, 
and the tourist who has the leisure may spend a week 
there very profitably, learning more, perhaps, of the 
peculiarities of the people and the characteristics of 
the government than at any other of its cities. I vis- 
ited the National Council Chambers, and was much 
struck with the simple yet massive grandeur of the 
rooms. An animated debate was going on in the 
lower Chamber whilst I was there. The speakers 
use the German, French or Italian languages, as may 
5 



86 Rough Notes of a Trip 

best suit them. The President's speeches, and motions 
and resolutions, when offered in German, are trans- 
lated into Italian and French by an official interpreter. 

A foreigner is certain to be astonished at the 
number of representations of bears which meet his 
eye at every prominent position. Bruin is the her- 
aldic emblem of Berne, the symbol of the power of 
the city, and the citizens have placed statues of him, 
armed and equipped with sword, banner, helmet and 
shield, in the gardens, on the squares, at the cor- 
ners of streets, and on fountains, pumps and gates. 
Half-a-dozen great monsters are kept in a public den 
at the public expense, and the people are prohibited 
by law from offering them anything that would be 
hurtful to their delicate stomachs. In fact there are 
bears, alive or in effigy, everywhere. The stranger 
will see children in the street devouring bread bears. 
He can never turn his head, indeed, without seeing 
some kind of an image of Bruin. 

The streets of Berne are long and tolerably straight, 
and the houses are of immense strength, the ground 
floor fronts, especially in the older parts of the city, 
being open and arched, with little shops back, and 
stalls in the arches, so that the pedestrian can walk 
the whole length of many streets in a sort of arcade. 
This peculiarity of the buildings constitutes one of 
the quaintest features of the city. There are an im- 
mense number of fountains and pumps, and in the 
middle of many of the streets wide channels are cut 



To Europe and Bach 87 

through which rapid streams of clear water con- 
stantly flow. 

We visited a public garden in the evening, where 
we obtained from the terrace a sublime view of the 
Alps at sunset. More than fifty mountains or peaks 
of mountains could be counted ; the magnificent Jung- 
frau, the Monk and the Eiger, being the most promi- 
nent. We were fortunate enough to see the glow of 
the Alps which is so much spoken of in the Guide- 
Books. Long after the sun had set in the valleys, and 
indeed after its rays had disappeared from the loftiest 
peaks of the mountains, those snowy Alps were ruddy 
with a hovering glow, as though bright fires within 
shone through their cold faces. 

At Berne there are swimming baths in the river 
Aare, which might be imitated on our own Niag- 
ara, with very little expense and with very great ad- 
vantage to our citizens. The Aare is a cold and 
extremely rapid stream. On its banks are many 
bathing-houses, cheaply constructed, but affording 
excellent baths. When I see how many public insti- 
tutions of this kind there are in every little town in 
Switzerland, where a river offers the opportunity, 
and notice how well they are patronized, I blush 
for Buffalonians, who make such scant use of the no- 
ble Niagara. 

From Berne we made an excursion to Interlaken, 
and I wish I could take your readers with me, in ima- 
gination, at least — though, indeed, the wish is all 



88 Rough Notes of a Trip 

there will be of it, for my pen cannot convey the 
faintest idea of the impressions made upon my mem- 
ory in this delightful trip. First is a railway journey 
of about an hour, at every minute of which the tourist 
wishes he could stop and enjoy the prospect. This 
brings him to the Lake of Thun, a "deeply, darkly, 
beautifully blue" sheet of water, about twelve miles 
long and three wide, the greater portion of its banks 
studded with picturesque villas and gardens, or else 
steep and precipitous hills, w r hich would be mountains 
in any other country. A pretty little steamer took 
us the length of this lake. Ever-changing views of 
the still distant Alps w r ere presented, and when the 
boat stopped we could hardly believe that an hour 
and a half had passed away in the trip. 

The steamer stops at Neuhaus, a village about two 
miles from Interlaken, but a crowd of carriages and 
omnibusses are always in readiness to convey the 
passengers to the hotels at the latter place. On the 
way we pass through Unterseen, a very old town, 
which has been quite left in the background owing 
to the attractions offered by Interlaken, its more 
fashionable neighbor. We stopped at the Hotel Vic- 
toria, a new and exceedingly handsome house, where 
we had rooms with the glorious Jungfrau in full view 
at every window. What shall I say of this majestic 
mountain ? We spent three days in its neighborhood, 
where we could see it in different aspects nearly all 
the time, but I am dumb when I would express my 



To Europe and Back. 89 

admiration. Perhaps I had better content myself 
with this silent tribute, for the space to which I limit 
each letter is now nearly exhausted, and Interlaken is 
still left " undone." Indeed I am tempted not to take 
you with me any further this post; but, alas! I am 
further advanced on my journey, and shall be still 
more " cabined, cribbed, confined" in my next, if I do 
not bring my account down to date in this. 

More strangers congregate during the summer at 
Interlaken than at any other point in Switzerland, 
and I presume it is, at the same time, as really fash- 
ionable a resort as it is popular. The place itself has 
hardly a thousand inhabitants, but it has nearly a 
dozen first-class hotels, and twice as many respectable 
"pensions," boarding houses, and smaller hotels. 
The larger houses are of magnificent dimensions, and 
are as elegantly furnished and served as the best ho- 
tels in New York. In fact the Victoria reminded me 
more of a popular New York hotel than any other 
I have yet stopped at in Europe. The best of the 
houses are built fronting the Jungfrau, a fact which 
none of their proprietors forget to mention in their 
advertisements, and I have heard it whispered that it 
is sometimes put down in the bills. There is no place 
in Switzerland from which so many delightful ex- 
cursions can be conveniently made, and it is for this 
reason perhaps that so many travelers make Inter- 
laken their headquarters; and this latter fact, again, 
accounts for the greater degree of dress and fash- 



90 Rough Notes of a Trip 

ion which is here to be seen than elsewhere. Inter-* 
laken is the Saratoga of Switzerland, and I would 
advise lady tourists to take their best clothes there, 
if they must carry their big trunks anywhere in 
that country. 

My time was so limited that I could only make two 
of the excursions from Interlaken, out of the many 
which have been so often and so enthusiastically de- 
scribed. The first w r as by carriage to Lauterbrunnen, 
a place which takes its name (meaning " nothing but 
brooks") from the numerous brooks and springs 
which rise in the lofty rocks of the neighborhood. 
At least a score of these miniature Niagaras leap 
from the immense heights hereabouts. The most fa- 
mous of them — the Staubbach — has an unbroken fall 
of nearly a thousand feet, and its waters are so spread 
and separated before they reach the bottom that they 
become a transparent sheet of spray and mist, which 
is waved and twisted by the breeze into fantastic and 
graceful forms, upon which the rays of the mid-day 
sun, as we saw it, wrought a succession of beautiful 
rainbows constantly rising and descending. I put my 
foot in one of these rainbows, and got wet through 
for my pains by the almost impalpable shower which 
fell upon me from the tiny cataract above. From 
this place we returned a little way and branched off 
to Grindenwald, by a steep ascending road for several 
miles. On the way by this winding path we saw the 
majestic Jungfrau from many different points of view. 



To Europe and Back. 91 

We had seen the sun rise upon its vast and dazzling 
peaks at Interlaken long before we started, and the 
previous evening had wondered at its beauty when it 
was blushing in the lingering embrace of the ardent 
god of day — fleecy clouds veiling its face at times, and 
then lifting their folds again, as if at the will of a coy 
and modest, yet somewhat coquetish damsel — but we 
thought the closer view we had at mid-day showed 
the glorious mountain in its most imposing and beau- 
tiful aspect. 

There are great glaciers at Grindenwald, descend- 
ing so far into the valley as to be easy of access. One 
of these we visited, passing on the narrow foot-path 
thither scores of men and women wheeling big blocks 
of ice cut from the glaciers, destined for the Paris 
market. Huge natural caverns are formed in this 
great ice mountain, and we walked into an artificial 
one which was cut into the solid ice a distance of per- 
haps forty feet. Two men were at work there, cut- 
ting another arch at a right angle. In the corner a 
woman was playing some unfamiliar instrument and 
singing a still more unfamiliar air. The noise was 
awful. Great drops of sweat kept falling from the ice, 
and I had a fellow feeling for it. I don't think I 
should have appreciated the music any better if I had 
been acquainted with the sentiment; but you need 
not fancy that I was a "dead-head" at that enter- 
tainment. 

This glacier is at the foot of Mount Eiger, which is 



92 Rough Notes of a Trip 

twelve thousand two hundred and forty feet high, 
and the whole valley is here shut in by monster peaks 
covered with eternal snow. The ice cut from the 
glacier is beautifully clear, but mottled as though it 
was formed in layers and ridges, like a great icicle. 
I should not be willing to forgive myself had I missed 
the visit to the spot, though we were very tired 
when we returned to Interlaken, for the day had 
been an extremely hot one. Our way going and 
coming was beset with beggars and half-beggars, the 
latter offering some equivalent in the shape of toys 
or fruits or milk for the money they demanded. I 
notice that the Guide-Books speak of this as the most 
disagreeable feature of travel in Switzerland, but I 
think they make too much of it. The poor people are 
satisfied with so small a gratuity that a dollar scat- 
tered judiciously will strew blessings on the tourist's 
path a whole day's journey, even where beggars most 
abound. The Alpine horn is particularly execrated, 
but the fellow who blew the lusty blast for me, wak- 
ing the echoes from the surrounding mountains, fur- 
nished me a pleasure for which I was quite willing to 
pay the customary trifle. Our musical critic would 
have found melody in the echoes, I know, though he 
might have stopped his ears, perhaps, at the original 
notes. 

Our next excursion was to the Geissbach, where 
we spent a night. We went by a small steamer on 
the beautiful little lake of Brienz, less than eight miles 



To Europe and Bach. 93 

long and only about two miles broad, but with water 
at some places two thousand feet deep. It is not a 
difficult ascent from the landing to a pleasant spot on 
this mountain, where a snug hotel is to be found. 
Here were excellent accommodations, and a great 
many visitors. The view from the terrace of the ho- 
tel is the most charming one which my eyes have 
ever looked upon. Below is the lake enclosed by 
mountains; above is the Geissbach with its seven 
cascades which precipitate themselves from rock to 
rock, the highest more than a thousand feet above 
the lake ; all around are great trees, and vines, and 
flowers, and hills covered with a most exquisite 
verdure. Behind several of the cascades are little 
bridges on which we stood next morning and viewed 
the landscape through the falling waters, having risen 
very early and climbed what was to us a great height 
for the purpose. I wish I could convey to you an 
idea of how the cascades appeared the night before 
when they were illuminated by floods of blue and 
crimson and green lights, but I can only leave it to 
your imagination. 

This early exploration, a visit to Brienz, return to 
Interlaken, and from thence to Berne, made a pretty 
hard day's work, and we were glad to rest at the lat- 
ter place for the night. Next day we started for Ge- 
neva, where we arrived yesterday, after a delightful 
trip, of which I shall give you no description in this, 
having taken up more than my usual space already. 
5* 



94 Rough Notes of a Trip 

The first person we met as we walked into the hotel, 
was young Mr. J. P. W., and very glad indeed were 
we to see him, for it was now more than two weeks 
since we had seen a face from home. This evening 
Dr. and Mrs. W., and Miss D., arrived in a carriage 
from Mont Blanc. These unexpected meetings with 
friends so far away from home, and the opportunities 
they give to compare notes and news, are the pleas- 
antest incidents which the tourist has to record. 

We leave to-morrow for Paris, and if I write you 
again it will be from that gay metropolis. 



To Europe and Back. 95 



VII 



THE ROUTE FROM BERNE TO GENEVA. — THE LAKE OF GENE- 
VA. — SOME NOTES ABOUT THE SWISS METROPOLIS. — 
FIRST ENCOUNTER WITH FRENCH, AND PERPLEXITY 
THEREAT. — ARRIVAL AT PARIS. — A WEEK OF SIGHT-SEE- 
ING IN THE GAY CITY. — SPECULATIONS ABOUT THE GER- 
MAN DIFFICULTY. — THE ATLANTIC CABLE. 

Paris, July 29, 1866. 
I think there was a promise in my last letter to 
give you some particulars about Geneva in the first 
that I should write you from Paris, as I had neither 
room nor time just then. I am sorry now that I did not 
make the room and steal the time, though that letter 
was already too long, for I find that a very few days 
in this bewildering metropolis are sufficient to make 
the impressions of immediately preceding events ap- 
pear very dim indeed. So much have I seen in my 
short sojourn here that it seems a ridiculous thing to 
think of writing about any previous matters; yet, 
more for the sake of preserving the unities in these 
hurried records of a too-brief European trip than be- 



96 Rough Notes of a Trip 

cause your readers would care about it if I did not, I 
will endeavor to keep my promise. One word of ad- 
vice first, however, to such chance readers as may 
contemplate a visit to Europe, and rashly intend to 
write letters thereupon, viz: don't think of writing 
anything but Paris when in Paris; or, better still, 
don't think of writing at all ! 

The trip from Berne to Geneva took us through a 
very interesting country, of which we saw all too lit- 
tle from the windows of the railway carriage. For- 
tunately, however, we only proceeded as far as Lau- 
sanne by rail — a journey of about four hours, pass- 
ing through the old town of Freiburg, where travel- 
ers with more leisure should be sure to stop, if only 
to see the beautiful Cathedral, and to hear its great 
organ, considered one of the finest in Europe, with 
sixty-seven stops and seven thousand eight hundred 
pipes, some of them thirty-two feet in length. At 
Lausanne, also, where we had only two or three hours, 
more days could have been profitably and pleas- 
antly spent. If I had not determined to write about 
such things only as I have seen, I could fill this letter 
with sketches of delightful excursions which can be 
made from this place. Is it not aggravating to think 
that we were only a few hours from Vevay, from 
Montreux, and the Castle of Chillon — in the neigh- 
borhood where Byron resided so long — and could 
not spare those few hours ? After all, I fear there 
will be as many regrets as pleasant reminiscences con- 



To Europe and Bach. 97 

nected with my visit to Europe, for, when it is over, 
I shall be constantly forgetting w r hat I have seen, and 
thinking of what I did not see. 

It seems to me that the first view of the Lake of 
Geneva — which is suddenly disclosed to the traveler 
just as he emerges from a long dark tunnel, a few 
minutes before reaching Lausanne — is one of such 
singular beauty that it would be thought a sufficient 
recompense for a long day's journey. It struck me 
so forcibly that I involuntarily cried " stop ! " as I 
had so frequently done in our carriage rides lately, 
quite forgetting that the iron horse was entirely be- 
yond my control. In one direction lay the valley of 
the Rhone, backed in the distance by the mountains 
of Savoy ; in the foreground numerous villages nestled 
in the midst of vineyards ; in the centre of the pic- 
ture, the deep blue beautiful Lake surrounded by 
mountains. Words — certainly my words — are to- 
tally inadequate to convey an idea of this charming 
scene. 

At Lausanne we took a steamer which conveyed us 
down the Lake in about four hours to Geneva. Do 
not expect any description of this sail. I was too 
much occupied to make notes, and if I attempted to 
say anything about my impressions now it would 
be like the delighted but incoherent talk of a child 
who has just for the first time seen a panorama. Yet 
there was one disappointment about it, too, for we 
had been taught to expect a view of Mont Blanc 



98 Rough Notes of a Trip 

from one point; but either the atmosphere was not 
clear enough (yet it was a fine day), or our eyes were 
not good (mine are generally quite useful, though not 
considered ornamental) — at any rate Mont Blanc 
was not visible to us. There was compensation, 
though, in the view of Geneva from the Lake. Of all 
the cities we have visited I think this is the most 
charmingly situated. The " arrowy Rhone " shoots 
out of the Lake and divides the town. Magnificent 
broad bridges span the rapid stream. At night a 
myriad of gas lamps are lit along these bridges, as 
though intended for an illumination. Reflected in 
the clear stream these lights have such a peculiarly 
brilliant effect that one hardly realizes the scene to 
be one of everyday life. Between two of the finest 
bridges there is a little island, named after the great 
sophist, J. J. Rousseau, who was a native of the town. 
A small suspension bridge connects this island with 
one of the great bridges, and on it is a statue of Rous- 
seau, in the midst of a pretty garden. The island, 
indeed, is all garden and promenade. Coming into 
Geneva from the Lake all this is seen at once. Both 
banks of the Rhone have broad, substantial quays 
and handsome buildings, and the shores of the Lake, 
before it runs into the Rhone, are thickly dotted with 
beautiful villas and grounds. On the Grand Quay, 
where the steamers stop, there is a fine public prome- 
nade called the English Garden, very neatly laid out, 
and a favorite resort with the people. This has appa- 



To Europe and Back. 99 

rently been stolen from the Lake, as its walls run 
into the water in the form of a broad wedge. 

Geneva has at least a dozen hotels which would 
rank as first-class at any Metropolis in the world. 
Some of these are very large and imposing buildings, 
and all are seen from the Lake, apparently bidding 
the traveler welcome. I don't know how many 
smaller hotels there are, but I should think that 
nearly half the city is made up of public houses of one 
sort or other. The town is said to have less than 
fifty thousand inhabitants, but it certainly is the big- 
gest town of that size I ever saw. I presume the 
transient population must be nearly as large as the 
resident, for Geneva is as pleasant a place to stop at 
as there is anywhere. Apart from its natural advan- 
tages, however, and its celebrated schools, I believe 
it has not a great many attractions to boast of, ex- 
cept in the way of fine shops, of which it has a vast 
number. It's a very nice place to " go shopping " in, 
I assure you. In this respect Geneva is a miniature 
Paris, and travelers who happen to stop there before 
going to the latter place may advantageously dispose 
of some of their shopping money, for they will find 
Paris styles at much less than Paris prices. This is 
especially true of jewelry and fancy articles. Watches 
are its speciality, and there are many great manufac- 
tories at this place famous all over the world. I was 
politely conducted through the largest — that of the 
celebrated house of Messrs. Patek, Phillippe & Co. 



100 Sough Notes of a Trip 

— and what I saw there of the mysteries of horology 
will forever remain a wonder to me. 

I need not tell you that Geneva has been the home 
of many famous people. John Calvin lived here thir- 
ty years. Necker, the minister of Louis XVI., and 
his daughter, Madame de Stael, were born here. Vol- 
taire had a chateau in the neighborhood, and it is still 
one of the sights which the traveler is expected to 
visit. But I think the Genevese are prouder of Jean 
Jacques Rousseau than of any of their other celebri- 
ties. Many of the shops use his name for a sign. I 
noticed a great tailor shop with " a J. J. Rousseau," 
in huge gilt letters over the door, and, directly oppo- 
site, an establishment for ladies' under-garments, hav- 
ing the same distinguished title. Any one will show 
you the house where the " wild self-torturing sophist " 
was born ; or the houses, I might say, for there are 
two for which the honor is claimed. Not being an 
admirer of Rousseau, myself, these spots possessed so 
little attraction for me that I was ready to exclaim, 
u a plague o' both your houses ! " 

Geneva is essentially a French town, although the 
metropolis of Switzerland. It abounds in cafes whose 
customers take their ease and their ices on the side- 
walks, under little awnings, in the true Parisian fash- 
ion. In other parts of the miniature Republic we 
found German the native tongue, though French was 
generally understood ; but in Geneva the latter lan- 
guage was the only one in common use. I had hardly 



To Europe and Back. 101 

been prepared for this, and was quite upset when I 
found that the little German which had been picked 
up by a very young gentleman of our party, who had 
been at school in Dresden, was no longer of any use 
to us. I may as well confess that I had looked for- 
ward with something of dread to our anticipated visit 
to Paris. Indeed, I didn't want to go to France 
until I knew the lingo, for if I did, I knew, like Hood, 
I would repent, by jingo! — but I had not expected 
that our lack of French would be felt before we ar- 
rived in that country. Knowing what a horror I 
have of asking questions of strangers, even in my own 
country, you will readily imagine how disgusted I 
w r as to find myself suddenly obliged to ask a great 
many, and nine times out of ten to receive only a 
shake of the head, a smile, or a shrug, in reply. You 
will not be surprised, therefore, to learn that I was 
not in the most amiable temper the first few hours of 
our stay in Geneva; but you would be amused if you 
could realize how irritable and porcupinish I was at 
being roused out of a troubled sleep, at a very early 
hour the first morning (it was market day and my 
room fronted on the market place), by a lot of poul- 
try-women jabbering and wrangling under my win- 
dow in the fastest, most aggravatingly unintelligible 
French it was possible to string together. It seemed 
to me that the very cocks, about which the women 
appeared to be quarreling, crowed in French, and 
crowed through their noses, too, the nastiest, meanest 



102 Bough Notes of a Trip 

little crows you ever heard ! It quite spoilt my appe- 
tite for breakfast. 

After a little while, though, I found that it was 
only a bugbear which had frightened me, and that pa- 
tience and good-humor carried us along nicely. The 
people are polite and attentive; they try their best to 
understand a foreigner, and, if the foreigner keeps his 
temper, they generally succeed. In most of the shop 
windows are little signs, " English spoken," and at all 
the hotels there are sure to be hosts or waiters to 
whom the traveler who has no other language can 
make known his wants. I stayed at Geneva long 
enough to learn these facts, and left that town a wiser 
and a better-tempered man than I entered it. Four- 
teen hours by rail brought us to Paris, where we 
have now been just a week, stopping at the Hotel du 
JRhin, in the Place Vendome, with the great Ven- 
dome Column, erected by Napoleon to commemo- 
rate his victories over the Austrians and Russians in 
1805, right in front of our window. In this hotel the 
present Emperor resided in 1848, when he was a de- 
puty to the National Assembly. I hope the fact will 
be forgotten when my bill is made out ! 

A week in Paris, and a first week in Paris, too ! 
Think of it ! Try and form an idea of how much a 
not idle man, enjoying good health and bent upon 
sight-seeing, must have done in that length of time, 
and then expect me to " write it up " in half a letter 
if you can ! I shall not attempt to do it. The most 



To Europe and Back. 103 

I shall essay to give will be a rapid sketch — merely 
a list only — of the places I have visited, and leave 
my readers to their memories, or to their libraries, for 
farther particulars. I may say beforehand, however, 
that I could not have done half as much in double the 
time without the assistance of a faithful and compe- 
tent interpreter and guide who had been recommend- 
ed to me by some friends I met in Germany. I advise 
all strangers in Paris to procure the services of such 
a person, for the first week or two at any rate. They 
can be had at any good hotel, and their fees are so 
moderate (six francs a day) that the money is more 
than saved in hack hire, admission fees, gratuities, 
etc., for which the stranger generally over-pays, un- 
less he has the advice of some one au fait in such 
matters. 

My first day in Paris was one of rest. I found let- 
ters and papers waiting my arrival, and to answer 
the first and read the last kept me pleasantly occupied 
whilst getting rested. Was I not glad to find so 
many impressions of your broad, clean, nice-looking 
face, you dear old Commercial ? One must go abroad 
to properly appreciate his daily newspaper. Letters 
— long letters too — are still more welcome. I wish 
some of my friends had not forgotten this fact. But 
this is not " doing " Paris. I begun my acquaintance 
with the gay metropolis by walking and driving about 
the streets pretty nearly the whole of one day — a 
plan I would recommend to all visitors, as one gets a 



104: Rough Notes of a Trip 

general idea of the city in that way, and a sort of fa- 
miliarity with its aspect, which are very serviceable. 
We commenced sight-seeing by a visit to the Tomb 
of Napoleon, that grand monument of a nation's love, 
to give an intelligible description of which would oc- 
cupy more space than you could afford me for an 
entire letter. The cover of the sarcophagus alone 
weighs upward of tixty tons. It is a ponderous block 
of reddish brown granite and was brought from Lake 
Onega, in Finland, at a cost for transportation alone 
of over thirty thousand dollars. This is exquisitely 
polished, and looks like the dark stones we sometimes 
see set in jewelry. The marble for this monument 
cost nearly half a million of dollars, and more than 
two millions of dollars have altogether been expended 
on it. After this, during the day, we visited the Pan- 
theon, the Church of St. Etienne du Mont, the Cathe- 
dral of Notre Dame, the Palace of Justice and the 
Sainte Chapelle — the latter considered the most per- 
fect Gothic edifice in Paris, a beautiful chapel which 
has recently been restored at a cost of more than a 
million of francs. The merest dryest details of what 
we thus saw in one day would occupy many of your 
columns; how then can I hope to convey even the 
faintest idea of these things in the space at my com- 
mand ? I will not try. You must be satisfied to 
know, in brief, that since that day we have visited 
the Gallery of the Louvre twice, had a drive in the 
Bois de Boulogne, attended a promenade concert in 



To Europe and Back. 105 

the Champs Elysees, inspected the Pompeiien Palace 
built by Prince Napoleon in the style of the house of 
Diomedes at Pompeii, since sold to a speculator and 
now exhibited to the curious public at a franc a head 
— drove and walked about the beautiful little Pare 
de Monceaux — spent an entire day at Versailles 
(wish I could write you a whole letter about that) — 
examined the great collection of Roman and Medi- 
aeval antiquities at the Hotel de Cluny, where there 
are immense stone baths still existing which were 
used in the fourth century — and twice visited the 
Luxembourg Palace with its great gallery of modern 
paintings, and were conducted, also, at our last visit, 
through the magnificent Senate Chamber, the Throne 
Hall, the Consultation Room, the Chapel, and the 
sleeping apartment of Marie de Medicis. Interspersed 
with all this sight-seeing have been many walks in the 
Boulevards and other fine streets, visits to theatres, 
some shopping and much staring in the shop windows. 
What you have heard and read of these places will 
assure you that our first week in Paris has not been 
an idle one, though I say so little about it. 

But more interesting than any of the sights do I 
find the people of Paris. "Paris is France," they 
say, therefore I suppose one may fairly judge the peo- 
ple of the whole nation by the denizens of the city. 
Outwardly nothing could present a more favorable 
idea of happiness, peace and tranquility in a great na- 
tion, than does the capital city of France. Every- 



106 Rough Notes of a Trip 

where the appearance of thrift and prosperity strikes 
the careful observer. There is less squalid poverty, 
less begging, less apparent misery to be found in a 
week in the streets of Paris than can be seen without 
much search any day in New York. This may be 
owing to the strictness and efficiency of the police ar- 
rangements, yet I have never seen any attempt on the 
part of the police to interfere with the people. All 
is fair on the surface, and I find it hard to believe that 
beneath this calm exterior there slumbers the volcano 
which many profess to think is ready to burst forth 
at any moment and overthrow the present order of 
things. If there is a throne in Europe which looks 
secure to-day it is that occupied by Louis Napoleon. 
Thoroughly as I dislike and distrust his character, I 
cannot help admitting to myself that the material 
prosperity of France has been further advanced under 
his rule than at any other period in the history of the 
nation. Judged by results, he has won greater glory 
in this respect, than the founder of his line, and has 
proved himself to be truly " a ruler of men " — at 
least of French men. He has given them a new 
Paris, too, for the old city is being rapidly torn down, 
and its narrow, crooked, unwholesome streets and un- 
sightly buildings replaced with broad, straight, hand- 
some avenues and palatial edifices. The Paris of to- 
day would hardly be recognized, it is said, by a 
Parisian who had not seen it in ten years; and the 
improvements are being carried forward as vigor- 



To Europe and Back. 107 

ously as ever, so that one may safely predict that it 
will be the finest city the world ever saw if the pres- 
ent system is maintained a score of years longer. I 
do not know that these wholesale improvements are 
entirely satisfactory to the people. The effect has 
been to increase the cost of living enormously — 
rents, in particular, being so high in the new streets 
that the old residents have to keep going back further 
and further from the heart of the city they love. Old 
Parisians grumble about this. They can't afford to 
live in the new Paris, they say. Prophets are not want- 
ing who predict that trouble will come of this yet. 

The people, as I said before, look happy and con- 
tented, and I have realized, what I had so often heard 
before, that the French are the politest of all the wan- 
derers from Babel. If you speak to a waiter you 
must address him as " Monsieur," or be guilty of an 
unpardonable want of courtesy; your femme de 
chambre is " Mademoiselle," and even the old woman 
who shows you a seat in the theatre must be called 
" Madame." All officials are models of civility, and 
I have not forgotten how pleased I was at the polite- 
ness of the customs officers when I was waiting to 
have my baggage inspected in the railway station. I 
had rather dreaded this ordeal. The passengers were 
all conducted into a waiting room, with their hand- 
baggage, whilst their trunks and boxes were arranged 
on long benches in an adjacent room. Presently an 
official said to me in excellent English (how did he 



108 Rough Notes of a Trip 

guess it was my mother tongue ?) " please take all 
your baggage into that room," pointing to where the 
checked pieces were. It was all over in a few min- 
utes. Only one trunk was unlocked, and the merest 
glance given to its contents — nothing was pulled 
about — and I was ready to drive to a hotel almost 
as quick as I would have been in America, in a city 
where no such form is gone through with. 

A pleasant feature of this city is that hardly any 
fees are exacted at the public institutions; at few 
places are any even expected, Paris being very differ- 
ent from the cities of Germany in this respect, as I 
know, and England, too, as I am told. At all cafes 
and restaurants, however, the waiters expect a few 
cents gratuity when the bill is paid. 

Here, by the way, I ought to branch off and write 
a chapter on the subject of Cafes, if I would pretend 
to give you an idea of street life in Paris. They are 
passed at almost every step, and those upon the prin- 
cipal streets are fitted up with great splendor and 
more or less taste. Frequented as they are by all 
Paris — brilliantly lighted at night, with chairs and 
small tables placed outside upon the pavements, at 
which both sexes set and discuss tea, coffee, choco- 
late, ices or liquors — the scene, to the promenader 
threading his way through the crowd, is one of pecu- 
liar animation and gaiety. The foreigner is amused 
to observe the perfect nonchalance with which the 
eating, drinking and flirting is thus carried on .upon 



To Europe and Bach. 109 

the open streets. No feature of Parisian life is more 
characteristic or striking to the stranger. 

I should end this letter here, but it occurs to me 
that I ought to speak of the great events which are 
just now occurring, if only to assure you that the 
sights of Paris have not entirely crowded out of mind 
all other considerations. The armistice which is now 
in operation between allied Prussia and Italy and 
poor hard-driven Austria, has brought the chief inter- 
est in the tremendous struggle to Paris, Napoleon 
being the great umpire between the belligerents. 
The latest intelligence would seem to indicate that 
the war is at an end. You have not failed to no- 
tice what a narrow escape I had from being an eye- 
witness of the occupation of Frankfort by the Prus- 
sians. I had left that city only a day or two when 
they arrived, and from what I have lately read about 
the extreme severity they meted out to the Frank- 
forters, there must have been trying times in the old 
Federal capital. You know that Bismarck ordered 
his generals to levy a contribution of seventy-five mil- 
lions francs on the city, being at the rate of nearly two 
hundred dollars per head for every man, woman and 
child of its inhabitants. The citizens refused to pay, 
and General de Manteuffel threatened to bombard 
and pillage the city if they did not. 

A gentleman lately arrived from Frankfort says 
that when General de Manteuffel, speaking to a depu- 
tation who complained of the contribution, let fall 
G 



110 Rough Notes of a Trip 

the word "pillage," one of the members of the dele- 
gation, Doctor Mylius, advanced and said: "General, 
you utter a menace that you cannot carry out." 
" How," exclaimed the General, "I cannot! Learn 
that I can, if I wish it, have your head rolling at my 
feet." " I know that very well," replied Doctor My- 
lius, "but as to pillaging Frankfort, you cannot do 
that, for you do not command a horde of barbarians, 
but a civilized army, who would not pillage even if 
you commanded it." General de Manteuffel, white 
with rage, could not find a word to answer. So the 
newspapers say. 

It appears that Bismarck was resolved to punish 
Frankfort severely for the determined opposition to 
his policy which its prominent men have always ex- 
hibited. But I don't think the threat to pillage the 
city will be carried out, even if the money is not paid, 
for there is a universal outcry from the newspapers 
of all Europe against such a course. The news 
now is that the demand will not be enforced. There 
is another anecdote in circulation, to the effect that 
the great banker, Rothschild, of Frankfort, threatened 
to break all the banks of Prussia if General de Man- 
teuffel attempted to put his threat into execution. It . 
is astonishing to what a splendid success the audacity 
of Bismarck has carried him. He is to-day the fore- 
most man in Europe, and his superb arrogance chal- 
lenges admiration — at least from those who do not 
have to submit to it. 



To Europe and Back. Ill 

In all these exciting events on the continent, you 
cannot but have observed how poor a part has been 
played by England — how utterly disregarded have 
been her wishes and her remonstrances. It seems to 
me that the proud people of that country must have 
felt deeply humiliated by the spectacle of England's 
impotence under the " peace at any price " policy 
which has been chosen by her rulers. In these fight- 
ing times a nation must be able — and willing too — 
to follow up its arguments with blows, if it would 
have its wishes heeded. 

Yet there is some glory, too, just now, to compen- 
sate England for the mortification she has suffered in 
the loss of her European prestige. The news has been 
received of the successful laying of the Atlantic Cable, 
and the importance of that magnificent achievement 
is acknowledged by all the world. If it be true that 
"Peace hath her victories not less renowned than 
War," then this is a triumph of which England has 
reason to be as proud as Prussia is over the bloody 
glory she has won in that wonderful campaign which 
is just ended. The Paris journals loudly applaud 
England for the perseverance she has exhibited in the 
undertaking. The Temps thus expresses itself: 

" If anything can console pacific and laborious democratic 
and liberal Europe for the cruel anguish it has for some time 
past been suffering — for the invasion of liberty and right, 
the progress of military rule, and the triumph of egotistical 
ambition and brute force, it is the great event which is to-day 
announced by a despatch from London. The laying down of 



112 Rough Notes of a Trip 

the Atlantic cable has succeeded ; the Great Eastern, a vessel 
which will for the future have a name in history, has fulfilled 
its mission to the end ; electrical communication is established 
between the Old and the New Worlds. Now is successfully 
accomplished that memorable event, more fruitful in conse- 
quences than the sanguinary struggles by which Germany has 
just been desolated; now has been gained that great victory 
of human intelligence and science over the blind forces of Na- 
ture. Henceforth, if the ocean remains clement and respects 
the mysterious line laid in its depths, we shall live with the 
same life as the people of the New Continent; henceforth we 
shall feel immediately the pulsations of that great nation 
which has established self-government on the other side of 
the Atlantic, and realized the idea of Democracy in action. 
To the tenacity of the English is due that great result ; it is 
English capital which for the third time has shown confidence 
in the accomplishment of that great work. Honor therefore 
to Anglo-Saxon perseverance." 

And the JLiberte is still more enthusiastic, as you 
will see from the following extract: 

"This is truly a glorious victory ! This is the conquest 
that we love, not obtained by man over man, but by man over 
things ! To abridge distance, to suppress it ! To put seas 
separated by isthmuses in communication ! To pass under 
mountains which ice and snow cover during eight months 
of the year ! To multiply bridges over rivers and mighty 
streams ! To open on all coasts ports of refuge against mari- 
time catastrophies ! To let all sovereigns correspond between 
each other without any intermediary, save their most inti- 
mate secretary ! What great deeds of political worth might 
be achieved if governments would seek in reason and in 
science that which they have too long endeavored to effect 
by violence and war I " 

I shall try and write you one more letter before 
leaving Paris. Good-bye. 



To -Europe and Back. 113 



VIII. 

A TRIBUTE TO THE WEATHER. — A DAY AT FONTAINEBLEAU. 

— SHOPPING EXPERIENCES. — WANDERINGS IN PERE LA- 
CHAISE. — VISIT TO THE GOBELINS TAPESTRY MANUFAC- 
TORY. — AN ARTIST'S REVENGE. — LAST DAYS IN PARIS.— 

HURRIED SIGHT-SEEING. 

Paris, August 6th, 1866. 
A man need not go away from home, you will very 
justly say, to write about the weather, and especially 
is it unnecessary if the man happens to be a citizen of 
breezy Buffalo, where there is as much weather, and 
as many different varieties in a given length of time 
as can be seen in any place in the world. I believe it 
also forms a staple topic of conversation in society 
there to quite as great an extent as anywhere, and, if 
my memory is not at fault, it is sometimes mentioned 
in the newspapers — occasionally, if not oftener, in 
your own columns, I have been told. But, in spite 
of all this, I must drag the time-honored and some- 
what threadbare subject into this letter, for it has 
been quite as remarkable as any other fact which has 



114 



Rough Notes of a Trip 



come under my observation. I had expected to suffer 
from the heat very severely during my stay here, and, 
indeed, the dread of that suffering was even greater 
with me than the trouble I should experience through 
ignorance of the " lingo." I believe it was noted in 
my last letter how little real difficulty I had encoun- 
tered in the latter respect, and now I have to record 
that the former dread has proved equally a bugbear, 
for nothing could be more charming than the weather 
has been in Paris during the two weeks of my sojourn. 
It has been" mild, bright (but not too bright), and 
balmy all the time. There has been no day on which 
a moderately thick coat could not be worn with com- 
fort ; and you, who have so often seen me at this sea- 
son of the year, mopping the streaming perspiration 
from my face after a toilsome ascent to your sanctum, 
will readily appreciate the grateful feelings which 
move me to disregard all chances of being charged 
with stupidity, and boldly commence a letter from 
Paris with a paragraph on the weather. I am told 
that it was blazingly hot in this city for several weeks 
just previous to my arrival; but, thanks to my lucky 
star (which evidently is not the dog star), " charming" 
is the proper adjective for me to use. It has rained 
two or three mornings, but, with a single exception, 
has cleared off in time to permit us to go sight-seeing 
as early as has been convenient. 

Under tjiese favorable circumstances you will infer 
that we have done a good deal in that way since my 



To Europe and Bach. 115 

last letter was finished, and you would be justified in 
expecting something more interesting than weather 
items in this; but, alas, there is such a thing as hav- 
ing too many good subjects for descriptive writing, 
and one sometimes feels inclined to lay down the pen 
in despair, not knowing where to begin. At least I 
do, on this occasion. A good plan (though I have 
not always pursued it) is to take up matters in the 
order they occur — certainly I will try it this time. 

I think we spent the next day after what was men- 
tioned in my last, at Fontainebleau, but as I do not 
keep copies or even notes of what I send you, I can- 
not be positive. ( Should I now and then " double " 
a topic you must excuse it on that ground.) I sup- 
pose some of my readers, bearing in mind the associa- 
tions connected with Fontainebleau, will be shocked 
when I tell them that the visitor to Paris, w T hose time 
like mine is limited to sixteen days, had better omit 
this excursion, as he can spend the day it takes to bet- 
ter advantage in the city : but I cannot help it if they 
are, for that is my deliberate opinion. Not that there 
is any reason to feel disappointed at what one has 
seen, but because in the same time and with much less 
expense so much more might have been seen in Paris. 
This remark, mind you, applies only to those who 
purpose so brief a stay as I do : those who have 
plenty of time should by all means give a day to Fon- 
tainebleau, where they will certainly find much to in- 
terest and some things to surprise them. 



116 Rough Notes of a Trip 

It takes two hours by rail from Paris to reach 
Fontainebleau. There is nothing to note except 
the Palace, the Garden and the Forest. The town 
itself is very dull and quiet, having only about ten 
thousand inhabitants. It has broad clean streets, and 
one very handsome avenue nearly a mile long, where 
splendid lofty trees on both sides intertwine their 
branches at a great height, producing a magnificent 
natural aisle with an effect far beyond the art of Man, 
except when he avails himself of the aid of Nature, as 
in this case. There are several fine hotels in the town, 
their chief business, of course, being derived through 
excursion parties from Paris. Many elegant private 
residences, too, and some very stately ones, has Fon- 
tainebleau, it being a nice, slow, aristocratic place, 
where great people can live in grand style at much 
less expense than they can in the metropolis. 

The palace has such an unprepossessing exterior 
that we were the more surprised and delighted at the 
magnificence which characterizes its interior. It was 
a favorite residence of the great Napoleon, and of 
course the present Emperor would not be so much 
like his uncle if he did not also like to live there. We 
entered by the court yard, where Napoleon parted 
from his Old Guard and Grenadiers after his abdica- 
tion in 1814, and where he reviewed them again, not 
quite a year later, when he returned from Elba. We 
ascended the great staircase, shaped something like a 
horse shoe, whose crooked steps would have a strange 



To Europe and Back. 117 

tale to tell, could they speak, of the thoughts which 
must have choked the fallen conqueror when he de- 
scended them, as he supposed, for the last time. We 
were shown the room in which he signed his abdica- 
tion, and the table — an ordinary little table of ma- 
hogany — on which it was done ; and went through 
the adjacent bed-room where he slept, everything 
being still preserved in the same order as when he 
occupied it. Old as the palace is, its most interest- 
ing associations are connected with the present dy- 
nasty. Here the divorce of Napoleon from Josephine 
took place. I fancied that the attendant, who had 
been describing the apartments to us in a loud, grat- 
ing, machine-like voice, spoke in a softer tone when 
he mentioned that incident. It w r as in this palace 
that Napoleon confined, during twenty-four days, the 
dethroned King Charles IV. of Spain. Here, also, he 
kept Pope Pius VII. prisoner a year and a half, in the 
sumptuous apartments once occupied by Catherine de 
Medicis, mother of three kings, and Anne of Austria, 
mother of Louis XIV. We were shown the private 
apartments and the grand reception rooms of the 
present Imperial family, but you will not expect a de- 
scription of them when I tell you that the limits of 
this letter w r ould be too circumscribed for that pur- 
pose. If I mention that we walked through the li- 
brary of the Emperor and were shown the desk at 
which he worked on his life of Julius Ca3sar ; — that 
we were (" as a special favor ") shown the private 
6* 



118 Rough Notes of a Trip 

apartments of the Prince Imperial, where he sleeps in 
much the same state as any other little boy whose 
parents are tolerably well-to-do in the world ; — that 
we examined the famous Gobelins tapestry, looking 
like paintings, and of priceless value ; — that we stood 
in the Chapel of St. Saturnin, which was consecrated 
by Thomas a Beckett, in 1169, when he was absent 
from England on account of his quarrel with Henry 
II., the chapel having been since then several times 
restored, last by Louis Philippe whose talented 
daughter, the late Princess Mary, designed the sub- 
jects for the stained glass; — that we passed through 
the four rooms which were occupied by Madame de 
Maintenon and are still furnished as then, in one of 
which Louis XIV. signed the revocation of the Edict 
of Nantes ; — if I merely mention these things, I re- 
peat, you must try and be satisfied, though I say not 
a word about a hundred other objects of interest we 
saw in the palace. 

We spent far the greater part of the day, however, 
in walking about the Gardens and in drives through 
the Great Forest. So beautiful are the grounds, and 
so quiet and retired, we do not wonder that tired 
royalty finds this a pleasanter residence than crowded 
bustling Paris. The space occupied by the gardens 
is immense. They are laid out in the English style, 
and pretty sheets of water, fountains, statues, trim- 
cut groves, and flowers of every clime, fill up the 
scene. One of the largest ponds is filled with carp, 



To Europe and Back. 119 

many of them, of great size and venerable with ex- 
treme age. Near by is a little stall at which an old 
woman sells bread. Visitors amuse themselves by 
throwing in hard loaves, and seeing the fish in im- 
mense numbers tumble and push them about till they 
are softened by the water, when some half-dozen 
great hungry monsters generally come to the spot, 
disperse the crowd, and devour the spoils. The 
Forest is sixty miles in circumference, containing 
about fifty thousand acres. It has for centuries been 
the favorite hunting ground of the French monarchs, 
and is said to be abundantly stocked with game. We 
could do but little more than admire the strikingly 
picturesque scenery, in our rambles and drives : but I 
cannot say we were disturbed by the game, and I 
hope the game were not disturbed by us. I must add 
here, by the way, that the New York Central Park 
is much finer in natural beauty than anything of that 
character we have yet seen in Europe, and I am al- 
most inclined to assert that these natural advantages 
have been as skillfully turned to the best account as 
w^ould have been the case if the work had been in the 
hands of the most celebrated artists of Europe. So 
much of the public work in our metropolis is shock- 
ingly bungled, and the people's money so shamefully 
wasted at the same time, that I think the Central 
Park all the more wonderful, inasmuch as that great 
work is free from both charges. These remarks are, 
perhaps, entirely out of place here, but they occurred 



120 Bough Notes of a Trip 

to me quite naturally when I was in the Forest of Fon- 
tainebleau, and I have as naturally set them down 
while writing upon that topic. 

Next in order comes a day or two of shopping, but 
I know you will not expect any details of what we 
did in that way. Yet one little bit of our experience 
may furnish a useful hint to future visitors, showing 
how necessary it is to be able to judge somewhat of 
the actual value of the article sought for. A walking- 
stick in one of the fashionable shops attracted my at- 
tention, and I enquired the price. " Seventy-five 
francs," was the reply. It was so greatly above its 
value that I made no offer for it at all. By and bye, 
in a shop not quite so elegant, I saw another exactly 
like it, evidently from the same manufactory. The 
price here was fifty-five francs, but that was still too 
high; so I offered forty francs, and, after a good deal 
of pathetic talk, which I fortunately did not under- 
stand and was therefore entirely unmoved by, the 
stick was mine at the price I named. I dare say a 
Parisian would have been asked no more than I paid, 
and probably would have obtained it for considerably 
less. This is only one instance out of many within 
my own experience, and much as I hate the practice 
of " beating down," I feel bound to recommend a 
steady course of it to foreigners in Paris. " English 
spoken " is the legend in many of the shop windows, 
and " Prix-fixe" appears quite as often — the latter 
meaning that as the price is fixed to the goods there 



To Mir ope and Back. 121 

is no necessity for asking them at lower figures. 
The Guide-Books very highly laud the shops which 
adopt this system, and recommend foreigners to deal 
w r here they see " prix-fixe," in the windows. This is 
a delusion and a snare. It may be true that no out- 
rageously exorbitant price is attached to the goods, 
but I am certain that many if not all of the dealers 
who display that motto expect to take less. Foreign- 
ers — Americans especially, and, more especially still, 
such of them as cannot speak French — are of course 
under great disadvantages in this respect. They en- 
joy the reputation of having plenty of money and of 
not caring much how quickly it is spent. Many are 
in the habit of buying things they do not want, be- 
cause their fancy is taken and the prices look low. 
The shop-keepers deal with foreigners upon this pre- 
sumption. They show all sorts of articles whether 
they are asked for or not, and they have such wheed- 
ling ways that it requires some resolution to refuse 
to buy. A somewhat ludicrous incident, which was 
related to me by an eye-witness, will illustrate the 
system of the shop-keepers. A gentleman from Cali- 
fornia (I know him very well) went into a fashionable 
barber's shop. He could not speak a word of French, 
but his signs that he wanted to be shaved and have 
his hair trimmed were readily understood. During 
the operation the " artist " showed him several hand- 
some brushes, a fine sponge, a variety of different po- 
matums and perfumes, a pair of nice razors, and other 



122 Rough Notes of a Trip 

toilet articles. The Californian supposed they simply 
wished him to choose what he preferred to be used 
upon him. "How polite these Frenchmen are," 
thought he, and nodded his head, and said " yes, 
yes ! " to everything, meaning that any of them would 
do well enough. So the barber shaved him with the 
new razor, sponged him with the new sponge, oiled 
his hair with fresh pomatum and used new combs and 
brushes on it, opened several bottles of perfumery 
and sprinkled him with them, really doing up the 
business, as my friend thought, in a very satisfactory 
way. When he made signs to know what he was to 
pay, he was startled with a bill, neatly made out, 
amounting to nearly two hundred francs ! The bar- 
ber had asked him if he would not like to purchase 
the articles shown, and had understood the Californ- 
ian to reply in the affirmative, and that he wanted 
them tried at once. The scene which followed may 
be easily imagined ; it must have been amusing. An 
interpreter had to be procured, and the matter was 
finally compromised by the Californian taking such 
of the things he had unwittingly bought as were most 
damaged in the operation. But he thinks Paris the 
most expensive place to get shaved in that he ever 
heard of. 

The Pere Lachaise is the largest and most celebrat- 
ed of the cemeteries of Paris. We spent some hours 
in it. It takes its name from the Jesuit confessor of 
Louis XIV., Father Lachaise, who lived in a coun- 



To Europe and Back. 123 

try residence on its site. The grounds are about two 
hundred acres in extent, and though they have been 
used as a cemetery only about sixty years, the place is 
now as crowded as any part of old Paris. It is truly 
" a city of the dead," for it is laid out with paved 
streets and little sidewalks, very much like the great 
live city whose dead it shelters. Over the greater 
portion of the tombs are built little chapels of marble 
with doors of open iron work or stained glass, and 
fitted up inside with altar, crucifix and candles, and 
one or two chairs, according to the size of the chapel. 
There are, besides, a great many magnificent monu- 
ments, but nearly all the graves, except those with 
only a simple and unpretending head-stone, have the 
peculiarity I have mentioned. From an eminence at 
the bank of the cemetery we obtained the finest view 
of Paris, but in the foreground were the crowded 
streets of the dead city, suggesting reflections which 
were, I hope, appropriate to the spot. There are 
over twenty thousand monuments in the grounds. If 
I were to undertake to mention the names of eminent 
personages whose remains repose here, I should have 
no room left in this letter for anything else. We had 
only time to visit a few of the most remarkable graves, 
and I have not room even to speak of all these. The 
most interesting spot in the place is the tomb of Abe- 
lard and Heloise, which is a Gothic chapel of consid- 
erable size, in the style of the thirteenth century, 
formed out of the ruins of the Abbey of Paraclete, of 



124 Hough Notes of a Trip 

which Abelard was the founder, and Heloise the first 
Abbess. The chapel contains the sarcophagus which 
was constructed by the order of Abelard, shortly be- 
fore his death. It represents the ill-fated pair lying 
side by side. Parisian lovers make it a practice to 
visit this grave and adorn it with fresh flowers and 
wreaths ; and it was thickly covered with these offer- 
ings when we saw it. Nearly all the tombs, indeed, 
were decorated with flowers and wreaths of yellow 
immortelles. We walked through the quarter set 
apart as a burial place for the Jews, and stopped at 
the tomb of the actress Rachel, which, like so many 
of the others, was a chapel, though of rather larger 
size than the average. The walls were entirely cov- 
ered with names of visitors scratched on the stone, a 
very unpleasing sight; yet, I dare say, a compliment 
was intended by every one who took the trouble to 
make the inscription. I have heard so much of the 
irreverence of Americans that I expected to see many 
familiar names, but, I am glad to add, that I discov- 
ered none — they were nearly all French. Inside the 
chapel were many flowers, and the floor was strewed 
with visiting cards, a fantastic ceremony on the part 
of visitors which the ghost of the great actress would 
probably appreciate, but which, to me, had something 
of mockery in it. There was mockery, too, in the 
fact that the largest monument in the cemetery, on 
the highest point of ground, was erected by a wealthy 
banker to perpetuate his own memory. It is a lofty 



To Europe and Back. 125 

pyramid, more like a light-house than a monument, 
and looks down upon the unpretending tombs on 
which are inscribed the great names of Berangeiy 
Arago, Lafontaine, Moliere, Racine, Madame de Gen- 
lis, Cherubini, Chopin, Talma, and a host of others 
famous in literature, the sciences and the arts, whose 
memory will live long after the massive pile, which is 
the only record of the wealth and the folly of the 
mere man of money, has crumbled to dust. 

On our way to the cemetery, and on our return, 
we passed several funeral processions. We stood 
barehead as the mourners went by, as is the universal 
custom here. The ceremony never ceases. Eighty 
interments a day take place in Paris, and more than 
a third of them are in the Pere Lachaise. There are 
only three cemeteries in the city, and their space 
would be utterly inadequate to the purpose, if the re- 
mains of the poorer classes (two-thirds of the whole 
number) were not huddled into large pits containing 
forty or fifty coffins. It costs fifty francs to secure 
permission to preserve a grave undisturbed for only 
five years, and five hundred francs for the perpetual 
right to an extremely limited space, only twenty 
square feet of ground, hardly sufficient for a single 
grave. A company has the monopoly of conducting 
all the funerals, the charges being regulated by official 
tariff. But enough upon this grave subject. 

I wish I could take my readers with me to the great 
Imperial manufactory of the famous Gobelins Tapes- 



126 Rough Notes of a Trip 

try, for I despair of conveying an intelligible idea of 
the beauty or of the process of the work. The manu- 
factory is the property of the government, and its 
productions are kept for the use of the reigning 
monarch, and for presents to foreign courts, princes, 
ambassadors and other people of high degree. The 
nucleus of the establishment was founded in 1450, by 
one Jean Gobelin, who erected a shop for dyeing on 
the banks of a little brook, la Bievre, the waters of 
which were famous for being peculiarly adapted to 
the purpose. His successors combined with the dye- 
ing business the manufacture of tapestry, and in the 
course of time their work had attained such high ce- 
lebrity that Louis XIV. purchased the concern, and 
ever since that time it has been operated by the gov- 
ernment. Many of the finest productions have been 
made during the reign of the present Emperor, and it 
is like going into a picture gallery to see the display 
of master-pieces. At first sight there is nothing to 
distinguish them from the finest oil paintings, except 
perhaps a softness and absence of glaze, which are 
points certainly in favor of the Gobelins. I will not 
undertake to name the remarkable works which are 
on exhibition, for I have not been able to find room 
for even this much of description when I have spoken 
of visits to great picture galleries. There are copies 
of celebrated pictures by old masters — copies so fine 
as to be worth as much as the originals — but I think 
none of the pieces excel in beauty and finish the full- 



To jEkcrope and Back. 127 

length portraits of Louis Napoleon and Eugenie, 
which would deceive certain amateurs of paintings 
I wot of. The work is done in long galleries, and 
the men are seen behind the frame on which the warp 
is stretched from floor to ceiling, selecting the silks 
and wools from myriads of little bobbins, and com- 
paring them with the subject behind them, which they 
are copying. The strangest thing about the process 
to me was that the men do not see the face of the 
piece whilst they are weaving it. The back of their 
work is toward them, and the visitors on the outside 
of the screen see the face of the piece as it progresses. 
About six square inches is an average day's task, and 
some idea may be formed from this fact of the great 
length of time which must be consumed over the 
largest pieces. The utmost patience and the most 
practised eye are required. The men must be intelli- 
gent and of the superior class — artists in fact, though 
there may be no originality in their works — and I 
was surprised to learn that their wages ranged as low 
as two hundred dollars per annum, and never ex- 
ceeded seven hundred. They look like prisoners 
whilst at work behind their screens of warp, and it is 
a mystery to me how men of such skill can be ob- 
tained, considering the unpleasantness of the labor 
and the poverty of its reward. 

This is not the place, perhaps, to speak of a picture 
I saw last week at Versailles, but the thought just 
here occurs to me to wonder that I did not say some- 



128 Rough Notes of a Trip 

thing about it in my last, when speaking of my visit 
to the palace at that place, and I must get it off my 
mind. The picture I refer to is the largest I have 
ever seen — forty feet in length by sixteen feet in 
height. It is by Horace Vernet, and represents the 
capture of the camp of Abdel-Kader by two cavalry 
regiments of the French army in 1843. It is a work 
of extraordinary power, and contains numerous por- 
traits. I have seen a dozen different engravings of 
detached groups from this picture. There is an anec- 
dote current about one of the most effective groups 
familiar to most readers, no doubt. It represents a 
most villainous-looking Arab stealing out of one of 
the tents and making off with bags of treasure belong- 
ing to his master. The Arab is the living likeness of 
the Minister of Finance, M. Fould, and the way he 
came to be thus pilloried for all time is related to me 
as follows : It appears that he employed Vernet to 
paint his portrait, but tried to make the great painter 
abate something on his price when it was done, on 
the ground that the likeness was not correct. The 
master refused to take less than the sum he originally 
named, and M. Fould spoke of rejecting the work. 
" Very well," said Vernet, " it is not your picture 
now, but mine ; and as you say it is not like you I 
will exhibit it." And exhibit it he did, having trans- 
ferred the features to the figure of the thieving Arab 
in the great picture he was then at work upon. The 
likeness which M. Fould demurred at is recognized 



To Europe and Back. 129 

by every one who looks at the picture and is familiar 
with the original, and those who are not are pretty 
sure, like myself, to be told the story. There was an 
eccentricity about the painter's method of revenge 
which savored of madness, as it seems to me — but 
the madness which is akin to genius, I suppose. 

I am drawing near to the end of the space to which 
I limit each letter, and there are many things I ex- 
pected to describe to you yet unmentioned. But you 
have got used by this time to my habit of running a 
variety of matters into a small space at the end, and 
will not therefore be surprised to find this letter 
Avound up in a somewhat similarly abrupt fashion. 
Learn, then, briefly, that we found time the past 
week to visit the Jardin d'acclimatation, in the Bois 
de Boulogne, where experiments are being made, and 
successfully too, to acclimatize foreign plants, animals, 
and birds in great variety. There is a great aqua- 
rium, also, with ten glass reservoirs filled with sea 
water and four with fresh, all constantly renewed by 
means of pumps, and containing a most interesting 
collection of beautiful fishes and queer fishes, all ap- 
parently enjoying life as well as though in their 
native homes. The grounds of the garden are taste- 
fully laid out, and there are cages and inclosures 
for the four-footed inmates as little like prisons as 
possible. I will not pretend to tell the number of 
different birds and animals, and foreign plants, flowers 
and shrubs that are here exhibited in all their na- 



130 Bough Notes of a Trip 

tive health and vigor; but I know it appeared to me 
a very wonderful thing to see representatives of the 
vegetable and animal life of every clime grouped in 
this comparatively small space ; and when I learned 
in addition, that the various seeds, eggs, and young 
animals could be purchased at moderate prices at the 
u bureau," I could not help thinking how well they 
do these things in France. 

The Jardin des Plantes also merited a much longer 
visit than we could devote to it, for it contains appa- 
rently almost every object connected with the natural 
sciences w r hich the student could wish for. From its 
name we might infer that it is specially devoted to 
botany, but the horticultural department, though very 
extensive, is not more important than the zoological 
museum and garden, the cabinet of comparative 
anatomy, or the geological department, which are 
connected with it. Lectures by fifteen different Pro- 
fessors, men of the highest celebrity, are given in an 
amphitheatre capable of holding twelve hundred per- 
sons, and the public have gratuitous admission to 
them. 

I do not like to quit Paris without saying some- 
thing about the Great Palace which is now being 
erected for the Universal Exposition of 1867. We 
drove around the outside of the building, and I think 
it must have been a journey of at least two miles, per- 
haps much more. The plan is beautifully simple, yet 
I have not space to describe it. How it is to be fin- 



To Europe and Bach. 131 

ished by the time stated is more than I can conceive, 
but the Emperor has said it shall be done, so I sup- 
pose it will. Nothing is impossible in Paris — say 
Parisians — and if the plan which I have seen of the 
buildings and grounds is carried out by next April, 
I shall believe the boast. 

It seems to me that I have written a good deal 
about Paris, considering that I have been here only 
two weeks — at least I have taken up considerable 
space about it ; but when I reflect upon how much I 
have seen of which I have not spoken at all I am quite 
dissatisfied with my work. If I do write you any 
more about Paris, however, it must be in a future let- 
ter, for it is near midnight now, and we start at six 
o'clock to-morrow morning for London. 



132 Rough Notes of a Trip 



IX. 



HORRORS OF CROSSING THE CHANNEL. — VAIN CONFIDENCE 
AND WHAT CAME OF IT. — SUFFERINGS FROM SEA-SICK- 
NESS. — THE ROUTE FROM PARIS TO DIEPPE, THENCE TO 
NEWHAVEN. — ENGLAND AT LAST. — RURAL SCENERY OF 
ENGLAND COMPARED WITH THAT OF THE CONTINENT. — 
LONDON. — A WEEK OF SIGHT-SEEING, INCLUDING VISITS 
TO PARKS, PICTURE GALLERIES, THE CRYSTAL PALACE, 
THEATRES, THE TOWER, ETC. 

London, August 14th, 1866. 

It sometimes happens that a man begins to crow 
like chanticleer before the victory is won, and the 
present writer lately was very unpleasantly reminded 
that to do this is to do a very foolish thing. Thus it 
was : You remember, I dare say, that in my first let- 
ter I mentioned with something of exultation the fact 
that though I was touched I was not conquered by 
sea-sickness on my voyage out. I don't think I said 
a great deal about it to you, but I must now admit 
that I have lately bragged not a little over my escape 
when I have been speaking on the subject to friends 
who inquired about my experience in crossing the 



To Europe and Back. 133 

Atlantic. I have claimed to be a good sailor, for 
whom sea-sickness had no terrors ; and when I was 
warned that crossing the Channel was a trip which 
was dreaded by the most seasoned travelers, I made 
light of it, affirming that it could not bring an " old 
salt " like myself to grief. It was in this confident 
frame of mind that I embarked at Dieppe for New- 
haven, the day after I finished my last letter, just a 
week ago. The weather was disagreeable, and some- 
thing of a sea was on, according to the sailors, but 
nothing unusual or alarming. I noticed that nearly 
all the passengers found places to lie down in the lit- 
tle saloons almost before the boat had left the wharf, 
only a few over-confident ones, like myself, being de- 
termined to weather it out on deck. In less than a 
quarter of an hour, however, I found the weather too 
much for me, and went below. Trouble had already 
begun, and I had hardly done the little it was possi- 
ble to do for those who needed my services before I 
found it expedient to lie down myself. I noticed that 
at every man's head a large white bowl was standing, f 
but yet I was rather indignant when the steward's 
boy placed one in front of me. " I shall not need it," 
said I. u Won't you, sir ? " responded the boy, with 
an incredulous emphasis on the first word, darting 
off, as he spoke, with a fresh bowl to an unfortunate 
gentleman who had been in very evident distress 
from the first moment of the voyage, and just then, 
after terrible groaning and retching, with a single 
1 



134 Bough Notes of a Trip 

violent gush, filled his first basin. The boy had very 
little peace after that until the voyage was ended. I 
watched him as he ran about, changing basins in re- 
sponse to the agonized calls of " steward ! steward ! " 
and, I grieve to add, the boy watched me as well. 
His post was at the cabin door, and what time he got 
to stand there he employed in looking at me, eager, I 
could see, to serve me with a fresh basin. The study 
of my face in the hope to discover symptoms of com- 
ing woe, appeared to have a peculiar fascination for 
him, for I never looked up but I caught his malignant 
eye upon me. 

Soon I began to feel a dreadful commotion within 
me, and I know my face became of a deathly greenish- 
white hue, for I saw a half-satisfied but yet expectant 
smile steal over that fiendish boy's countenance. This 
put me upon my mettle, and I determined to disap- 
point him or perish in the attempt. With a mighty 
effort I kept down the rising storm in the interior, 
and fought off the green sea-monster during five 
or six long hours ; but the agony I endured must for- 
ever remain untold from sheer inability to adequately 
describe the sensations of smothered sea-sickness. I 
freely admit that I should have felt better had I suc- 
cumbed to the storm, but my pride was aroused, and 
I would not — in short, throw up — whilst that evil- 
eyed boy was watching me. Three or four times I 
attempted to rise and make my way upon deck, but I 
could not stand the motion, and had to plump down 



To Europe and Back. 135 

very quickly every time I tried it. At length we 
were within an hour of reaching our haven, and I be- 
gan to feel confident of victory. Thought I would 
make a sure thing of it, by trying the remedy I boast- 
ed of so much in my first letter, and therefore sipped 
down a tumbler of champagne which I had not felt 
equal to until then. Some one looked out of a win- 
dow and said we were nearly at the dock. I jumped 
up to look after my companions and baggage, and — 
( fancy my feelings when I was so nearly triumph- 
ant!) — fell back again so deathly and so suddenly 
sick that I had barely time to grasp the obnoxious 
bowl which had stood before me so long. " Have a 
fresh basin, sir ? " said that horrible boy, who was at 
my head in a moment. " Knew you'd want one, sir," 
he added with quiet malignity. I was too sick to re- 
ply, and could not even look one of my looks at him. 
But I did want to break his head for him, the young 
villain. 

It was only a single spurt though, after all — noth- 
ing but the champagne — and in a few moments I felt 
so nice and quiet within that my resentment all van- 
ished, and I heaped a shilling's worth of coals of fire 
upon the poor boy's head, much to his surprise, as I 
thankfully passed out of the cabin on my way to the 
shore. 

I know right well that I ought not to have com- 
menced this letter with a recital of my unpleasant ex- 
periences in crossing the Channel, if I would continue 



136 Rough Notes of a Trip 

to pursue the plan I have followed in my previous let- 
ters — I mean that of narrating the incidents of travel 
in regular order as they occurred, — but I was so im- 
pressed with the fear that I was enjoying an unde- 
served reputation as " a good sailor " with such of 
my readers as do not quite forget what I scribble 
about — and another fear that I might possibly have 
been instrumental in inducing other voyagers to place 
an undue reliance upon the virtues of champagne as a 
remedy against sea-sickness — that I thought it best 
to lose no time in correcting these false impressions. 
But I will now go back to Paris (without crossing 
that dreadful Channel again, though, I thank heaven! ) 
and bring you who kindly accompany me from thence 
to London by " the pleasantest summer route " ac- 
cording to Guide-Books and advertisements. 

The quotation in the last sentence — with the fact 
that it is, at the same time, certainly much cheaper 
than by the way of Calais and Dover — will explain 
why I took the route from Paris to London via 
Dieppe and Newhaven. I can cheerfully endorse all 
that is claimed for the land part of the journey, and I 
cannot aver that there is not just as much sea-sickness 
to be endured in the shorter passage over the Chan- 
nel from Calais to Dover as in the longer one that we 
traveled. In pleasant weather the latter is said to be 
a much smoother way than the former, and I think 
that much very likely is true ; but pleasant weather is 
the exception, rough weather the rule, in the Channel, 



To Europe and Back. 137 

and the sea passage is four or five hours longer from 
Dieppe to Newhaven than from Calais to Dover 
( though there is generally only about two hours' dif- 
ference in favor of the latter route, taking the entire 
journey between Paris and London) — therefore, af- 
ter what I have said of the horrors of this " middle 
passage," I think it will be readily inferred that it 
must be a very fine day indeed that would tempt me 
to choose the longer sea route again, though it is so 
much the cheapest. Admitting that one will as surely 
be sick, and as severely sick, the other way, there is 
only one-third of the time "to be sick in ; and I know 
that when the two-thirds of our sea journey was still 
to be endured we w r ould gladly have paid twice the 
money we saved if we could have saved that distance. 
You must not fancy, either, that this writer was the 
sickest man on board. Far from it. He was well, at 
peace, contented, happy — nay, jolly even — compar- 
ed with some of his fellow wretches. Everybody was 
sick — some so desperately sick that it seemed they 

would wrench themselves to pieces. But here I 

am, back again upon this dreadful topic, sea-sickness ! 
I am sure I don't know why I harp upon it so. It is 
certainly anything but a pleasant subject. I will 
leave it now, for good. 

On our way from Paris to Dieppe we passed through, 
Rouen, an old, important and very interesting town, 
at which I would advise travelers to stop at least a 
day. It has now over one hundred thousand inhabi- 



138 Rough Notes of a Trip 

tants, was the ancient capital of Normandy, and has 
more and richer specimens of mediaeval architecture 
than any other city in France. Its Cathedral is a 
grand Gothic edifice, one of the finest on the conti- 
nent, and has many interesting relics. One of its 
chapels contains the tomb of Rollo, the first Duke of 
Normandy, who died in 927 ; in another there is an 
old mutilated figure of Richard the Lion-heart, of 
England, who died in 1199. This figure was discov- 
ered in 1838, and the heart of the great Crusader was 
found at the same time, and is now preserved in the 
Museum, which contains many other curious relics, 
old documents, etc., one of the latter bearing the sign- 
manuel (a cross) of William the Conqueror, who died 
in this town. Beautiful as is the Cathedral, Rouen 
can boast a still finer Gothic Church, the Abbey of St. 
Ouen, which was founded in 1318, added to at differ- 
ent periods, and has only recently been entirely com- 
pleted ; but the original plan having been closely fol- 
lowed, there is a rare harmony of design throughout 
the entire edifice. It surpasses the Cathedral in ex- 
tent and chasteness of style, and the people of Rouen 
claim that it is one of the few perfect Gothic struc- 
tures in the world. Tradition asserts that the archi- 
tect of this noble church, Alexander Berneval, killed 
his apprentice in a fit of jealousy, because his execu- 
tion of the rose window of the north transept gave 
proof of a skill that surpassed the master's. It was in 
this town that Joan of Arc was burned at the stake, 



To Europe and Back. 139 

in 1431. The spot on which she suffered is now oc- 
cupied by a fountain. 

The route from Paris to Dieppe affords much beau- 
tiful scenery. It winds along the valley of the Seine, 
which is crossed more than a score of times in the 
journey. There are many old towns on the line, at 
every one of which incidents of historical interest 
have occurred. If the traveler can afford time to 
make many stops, he may visit the town of Poissy, 
where Saint Louis was born; Mantes, where William 
the Conqueror fell from his horse and received the in- 
jury of which he died; the Tower of Vernon, where 
Philip Augustus of France found refuge when con- 
quered by Richard Cceur de Lion ; the ruins of the 
Castle of Gaillard, near Les Andelys, where Margaret 
of Burgundy was strangled by order of her husband, 
Louis X. ; and many other points of interest may be 
found by the persevering and leisurely traveler. 

Dieppe, where we took the steamer for Newhaven, 
is quite a fashionable watering-place. The Emperor 
pays frequent visits to it, and it is the annual resort 
of many English and French families, who come to 
enjoy the splendid sea-bathing which the place affords. 
In front of the bathing establishment there are about 
two hundred little tents, from which the bathers de- 
scend into the water, presenting a very novel and ani- 
mated scene when the weather is fine and the season 
is at the height. One of the greatest curiosities of 
Dieppe is a great oyster park, where the bivalves, 



14:0 Rough Notes of a Trip 

first brought from the inexhaustible beds near Cher- 
bourg, are dieted in a way which is said to materially 
improve their flavor. The markets of Paris are princi- 
pally supplied from this source. 

But I must quit these details and hasten over to 
England, where, an inward monitor reminds me, I 
ought to have taken you long ago. Having already 
told something about the six hours' passage across the 
Channel, and having promised to say no more about 
sea-sickness, it is but a jump and there we are, on the 
grand old Island, where everything looks so beauti- 
fully green, so comfortable and homelike, that I feel 
almost inclined to throw myself upon the broad 
bosom of the dear old Mother-land, and kiss her still 
fair fresh face ! How pleasant it sounds to me, too, the 
good old English tongue, after these months of wrest- 
ling with foreign lingoes ! And I am strongly inclined 
to shake hands with the honest porter, who is the first 
man to speak to me in England. 

There is little or no trouble with the customs offi- 
cers on arriving in England. So few articles are 
liable to duty that the examination of baggage has 
become almost a mere form. Tobacco is subject to a 
high impost, and travelers are generally asked if they 
have any of that obnoxious weed about their persons 
or luggage. Not a fourth of my bags or boxes were 
even looked into, though I unlocked them all quite 
readily. The best way is to open everything to in- 
spection cheerfully, and then you will get along nicely, 



To Europe and Back. 141 

as the officers are not apt to put themselves to un- 
necessary trouble in pulling your things about merely 
for the sake of annoying you. Of course they are at 
liberty to take everything out of your trunks, if they 
choose; but I have always found that civility begets 
civility, and if you are disposed to make things pleas- 
ant yourself you will find few public officials who are 
not ready to second your efforts. I go into this sub- 
ject at the greater length, because I know from my 
own experience that a good deal of unfounded dread 
of trouble with the customs inspectors exists among 
travelers. I only hope I shall have as little trouble in 
that direction with our own authorities, on my return, 
as I have found in Europe. 

The first thing which strikes an American who has 
been traveling on the Continent before reaching Eng- 
land, is the totally different and far more beauti- 
ful aspect of the rural scenery in the latter country. 
This is not due so much to a higher state of cultiva- 
tion of the soil, perhaps, as to the different method of 
dividing the fields. On the Continent hedges and 
fences are unknown. The land is cut up into little 
narrow patches and planted with different productions, 
quite close to each other, without even a trench to 
divide them. In many places there is no protection 
from the public highways, the land being cultivated 
up to the edge of the road. This gives the face of 
the country a curious appearance. It looks, when 

seen from a distance, as though the land was covered 
7 * 



142 Rough Notes of a Trip 

with a huge striped carpet. In England the fields are 
separated by thick, flowery hedges. Handsome trees, 
sometimes alone, sometimes in little clumps, are left 
standing to make the scene more picturesque. In the 
coi^ners of many fields are little ponds of water. Long, 
narrow, crooked lanes, in which the hedges nearly 
meet overhead, lead to the broader highroads. The 
whole country, indeed, often looks as though it were 
laid out by a skillful landscape gardener. There is no 
question that the Continental system of farming has a 
great advantage over that which prevails in England, 
in a utilitarian point of view. Not an inch of space is 
left uncultivated with the former, whilst with the lat- 
ter the trees, hedges, ditches and lanes, must take 
out a large slice of the productive capacity of the soil. 
But there is also no question about which system pre- 
serves the face of Nature in the fairest aspect. In 
England the denizen of a man-made town realizes at 
once that God made the country; on the Continent 
the hand of man is almost as visible in the country as 
in the city, so mathematically are the lines of the 
fields laid down. The title to the land in England is 
seldom vested in the farmers. Great proprietors, the 
hereditary aristocracy, are the owners of the soil, and 
farms are leased upon stringent conditions as to pre- 
serving the timber and cultivating the hedges ; other- 
wise it is hardly possible but that beauty would be 
sacrificed to utility, and the Continental agricultural 
system come into vogue in England where land is so 
valuable. 



To Europe and Back. 143 

You may be sure, however, that we did not bother 
our heads with speculations of this nature upon our 
journey from Newhaven to London. We were too 
thankful that we were upon the solid earth again, and 
too much occupied in admiring the beautiful country 
to care for the whys and wherefores of the question. 
A civil "guard" (whose civility was not inadequately 
rewarded, I hope,) gave us a coach to ourselves on 
the railway, procured us a cab and attended to the 
loading of our baggage when we arrived at the sta- 
tion ; and we found ourselves pleasantly located in a 
comfortable hotel, in the West End of London, with- 
out the least trouble, and not so late in the evening 
but that a good supper of the best mutton-chops we 
ever tasted was as wholesome as it was welcome. 

Here we are then, in London at last, and here we 
have been about a week. The time has not been idled 
away, I can assure you ; indeed I have been so con- 
stantly occupied one way and another that I have had 
no leisure for writing, and begrudge the time which 
must be given to this letter. I am glad to think that 
you will not expect particular details of what we see 
in London, knowing as much already about most of 
the sights as I could write you were time and space 
less limited than they are. I shall only trouble you, 
therefore, with the briefest mention of what we have 
" done " thus far. 

The first day was nearly all needed for rest, but we 
managed to find energy enough in the latter part of 



144 Rough Notes of a Trip 

it for three or four hours' drive about the streets and 
in the Parks. It is not " the season " now in London, 
as I need not tell you, and there is not much of the 
fashionable world to be seen in Regent and Oxford 
streets, or in the Parks. So we are told, and yet we 
thought the scene a very gay one. We drove about 
Hyde Park where the late riots occurred, and saw 
more than a mile of high board fence which had been 
erected in place of the strong iron paling that was 
forced down by the crowd. It is hard to say whether 
the authorities were not mare to blame than the riot- 
ers, so different are the views of the newspapers. 
They are accused of showing too much leniency by 
one class, and of trampling on the rights of the people 
by another. One thing is very certain : a crowd of 
London " roughs" is the most brutal crowd that 
can be brought together in any place in the world, 
and I find many sensible people here who believe that 
military force will have to be more frequently resorted 
to than formerly to keep down the disorderly classes 
of the great city. There is everywhere in England 
such a jealous regard for the rights of the people that 
the idea is not a popular one, but it seems to me in- 
evitable that the Government must strengthen itself 
in some way, or else fall at no very distant day before 
the power of King Mob. 

We thought the pictures of the Foreign School in 
the National Gallery rather a meagre display, and the 
building a contracted, shabby affair, after seeing the 



To Europe and Back. 145 

immense collections and the magnificent palaces in 
which they are housed, on the Continent. There are 
some priceless gems of the old masters in the Gallery, 
but not many, comparatively. One entire room is 
devoted to the pictures of the eccentric J. M. W. 
Turner, and it seemed to me that the pictures were 
more eccentric than the painter. His style resembles 
no other artist's, living or dead. A "Turner" will 
be recognized as far as it can be seen, but I must con- 
fess that I cannot rank myself among the admirers of 
this master. I gave the paintings a somewhat atten- 
tive examination, and tried hard to come to a different 
conclusion, for I had so greatly admired engravings 
which I had seen of his works that I expected to be 
delighted with the originals ; but it was of no use — I 
could not help thinking that a majority of the paint- 
ings looked like the works of a madman. Of course 
there must be great merit in them, or they would 
not be so highly valued ; only my taste is not edu- 
cated up to the capacity for appreciation. Upon this 
point I freely write myself down an ass. 

Very different was the feeling with which I viewed 
other great works of the British School now tempo- 
rarily exhibited at the Kensington Museum. There 
are the splendid pictures of Sir Edwin Landseer, with 
which the whole world is familiar through engravings. 
But no engraving can convey an idea of the exquisite 
finish and yet wonderful strength of the originals. 
You would like to spend a day with " Alexander and 



146 Rough Notes of a Trip 

Diogenes," a group of eight dogs — surly old Diog- 
enes in his kennel looking at magnificent Alexander 
and his obsequious train of curs and courtiers of every 
degree, as much as to say " stand out of the sunshine, 
if yon would do me a favor;" — with the "Maid and 
the Magpie" — with "Low Life and High Life" — 
"Dignity and Impudence" — "Peace" and "War" 
— "The Hunted Stag"— "Highland Music" — "A 
dialogue at Waterloo," the latter a great picture rep- 
resenting the old Iron Duke and the present Duchess 
of Wellington on horseback at the field of Waterloo, 
where the hero has been fighting the battle over 
again, ending by saying to his companion "but 'twas 
a famous victory;" — these and a score others of 
Landseer's famous pictures, familiar as household 
words, are in the Gallery at Kensington. There too 
are the great originals of Hogarth's dramatic pictures, 
masterpieces by Wilkie, Gainsborough, Reynolds, 
West, Lawrence, Jackson, Maclise, Leslie, Stanfield, 
Herring, Frith, Rosa Bonheur, and a host of others, 
to admire which one does not have to put on a wise 
air and pretend to discover points of excellence he 
knows nothing about, as he does when looking at too 
many of the works of the old masters. The merits 
of these pictures speak to you at once in tones you 
are familiar with. 

We have spent a day at the Crystal Palace of Sy- 
denham, but there was so much to see, such a crowd 
of people, such beautiful grounds and walks and foun- 



To Europe and Back. 147 

tains, such a wonderful collection of works of art, so 
many different courts, models of antique rooms, and 
specimens of gigantic tropical plants and trees all 
growing in their native vigor in the wonderful Glass 
Palace — more astonishing than anything dreamed of 
in the "Arabian Nights" — that the impression left 
on my mind is all confused, and I can give no descrip- 
tion of the place whatever. In the evening there was 
a display of such gorgeous fireworks as I never saw 
before, or any approach to them indeed, and we re- 
turned at night fairly exhausted with admiration. If 
I can give another day to the Palace I will try and 
keep cool and collected enough to be able to tell you 
something about it. And yet you know I am not 
given to an over-indulgence in enthusiasm. 

We have visited two of the most celebrated thea- 
tres, the "Haymarket" and the " Adelphi." Here 
there was disappointment. The first is a dingy little 
place, hardly as large as our "Metropolitan," and not 
half as pretty. The Adelphi is somewhat larger than 
the Haymarket, but still is not equal to any of the 
first-class theatres of our metropolis, either in size or 
elegance. " The Fast Family," a rather exciting but 
very improbable play, adapted from the French, is 
having a long run here. The famous comedians, Paul 
Bedford and J. L. Toole, were in the piece, but I con- 
fess that I should not have known they were great ac- 
tors had I not seen their names in the bill. This, 
however, is very likely due to the fact that I did not 



148 Rough Notes of a Trip 

see them in any of their favorite parts. Bedford is a 
very portly old man, with a splendid voice, and re- 
minds one strongly of John Gilbert, of Wallack's, but 
I think the latter much the better actor. Don't think, 
however, that I mean to be critical, for that would be 
absurd under the circumstances. Mrs. Alfred Mellon 
had the best part in the piece, and she certainly did 
ample justice to it. The afterpiece was an extrava- 
ganza and spectacle-operatic affair, called " Helen, or 
taken from the Greeks," but I could not sit it out. 
Such dreary puns, and such stupid nonsense, I could 
not endure. About a week before I had seen " Cin- 
derella " at the Grand Chatelet Theatre in Paris. 
It was a ballet, an opera, a comedy and a magnifi- 
cent spectacle combined in one. Perhaps this gor- 
geous entertainment had spoiled me for any other 
production of that kind. It was truly wonderful. 
Put together all that I had ever seen before in that 
line, and the sum would not make up the half of what 
was shown me in this one piece. The " Chatelet " is 
an immense theatre, and seats nearly four thousand 
people. It has seven tiers of boxes, so you may ima- 
gine what a height they have for effects on the stage. 
But I forget, I am not writing about Paris now. 

And yet one who comes from Paris to London can 
hardly avoid drawing a comparison between the two 
cities, and not often, I must confess, so far as appear- 
ances go, in favor of the latter. The streets and 
buildings of the new Paris are so much more elegant 



To Europe and Back. 149 

than anything in London that the latter is quite an 
old-fashioned dingy city in comparison. The build- 
ings of London, even on the finest streets, are so low 
that they make a poor show, and this is the case with 
structures of quite modern date. Few are over three 
or four stories high, and the ground-floors are seldom 
more than ten or twelve feet between joists. The 
finest buildings of Regent and Oxford streets are of 
this character, the fashion being attributed to George 
the Fourth, in whose reign many of them were erect- 
ed. • The " first gentleman in Europe " would not 
hear of more than three stories to any building with 
which he had to do. Perhaps " your fat friend " had 
constitutional objections to stairs. Well, there is 
something in that, too. Alas, that candor compels 
me to admit it ! 

We went to Her Majesty's Theatre one evening, a 
really magnificent place, and spacious as well. The 
orchestra was grand, but there were few of the vocal 
performers whom I had not heard excelled in the 
Academy at New York. I except Mad'lle Titiens, 
who is a prima donna charming in every way. Mr. 
Tom Hohler was the tenor. He is a nice-looking 
chap, as our musical critic would say, but not much 
of a singer. 

By far the most interesting place we have yet vis- 
ited is the Tower of London, where we spent two or 
three hours under the guidance of a very entertain- 
ing but pragmatical old " beef-eater," who had 



150 Rough Notes of a Trip 

" sarved George the Third when a' was a lad," as he 
informed us every five minutes. We were shown the 
block upon which three Queens — Anne Boleyn, 
Catharine Howard and Lady Jane Grey — were be- 
headed, and held the fatal axe in our hands. There 
was one dent in the block deeper than the rest, and 
we fancied it was made when the head of that poor 
lady who had such " a little neck " was taken off. I 
shall not enumerate what we saw — everybody knows 
what is to be seen in the Tower. The old " beef- 
eater," however, did not assume that we knew any- 
thing about anything. " Look here, young ladies and 
gentlemen," he would say, " did iver ye read about 
Sir Walter Raleigh ? Well, this is the room where 
he was confined for siven years. There, now, what 
do you say to that ?" And then he would march on 
to some other object and demand again " did iver ye 
read," or " did iver ye hear tell," before he told us 
what it was. He was a nice old fellow though, and 
did his very best, and I hope he did not repent it 
when we went away. We were most interested in 
the room called the Beauchamp Tower, where the 
State prisoners were formerly confined. The walls 
are covered with inscriptions, many of them of great 
interest. There is one over the fire-place, peculiarly 
affecting. It runs thus : " The more suffering for 
Christ in this world — the more glory with Christ in 
the next. Thou has crowned him with honour and 
glory, Lord! In memory everlasting He will he 



To Europe mid Back. 151 

just. Arundell, June 22nd, 1587." This inscription 
was made by the unfortunate Philip Howard, son of 
that Duke of Norfolk who was beheaded by Elizabeth 
for aspiring to marry Mary Queen of Scots. Philip's 
offence was his religion, he being a devoted Romanist. 
He was imprisoned in this room many years, and was 
only released a short time before his death. But the 
most interesting inscription we found was the word 
" IANE," said to be the work of Lord Guilford Dud- 
ley, the husband of the unhappy Lady Jane Grey. A 
description of these inscriptions would more than fill 
one of my letters, so I may as well stop here, espe- 
cially as my allotted space is nearly filled up already. 

I had intended to say something about the " Street 
Cries " of London, but I have not the room now. Be- 
sides, I don't understand any of them as yet. There 
is one old fellow who passes my window as regularly 
as the clock, but what be has to sell I cannot guess. 
His cry has three notes, like the croak of a raven, 
and I am very curious to know what it means. If I 
can get up early enough some morning to waylay 
him, I will find it out and write you about it. 

More home friends. Mr. and Mrs. J. S. have been 
with us the last three or four days. They were in 
Scotland when they heard of our arrival here, and ran 
down to visit us. They left for Paris this evening, 
expecting to see the Emperor's great fete to-morrow. 
With this local item, for which I expect your thanks, 
I bid you good-bye for the present. 



152 Rough Notes of a Trip 



X. 



LONDON. — DIFFICULTIES IN THE WRITER'S WAY. — A VISIT 
TO ST. PAUL'S AND SOME REFLECTIONS UPON THE MONEY- 
CHANGERS IN THAT TEMPLE. — A GOSSIP WITH THE OLD 
LADY OF THREADNEEDLE STREET. — MADAME TUSSAUD'S 
WAX-WORK SHOW. — THE ZOOLOGICAL GARDENS. — STREET 
SIGHTS. — A DIGRESSION. 

London, August 24th, 1866. 
London is " too many " for your correspondent. 
He neither knows where to begin when he wants to 
tell your readers of its sights and wonders, nor where 
to stop when he does make a beginning. The conse- 
quence is that he feels no confidence of being able to 
do anything, except the thing of all others he least 
desires to do, namely, tire the patience of the indul- 
gent friends who read his letters at the same time 
that he is exhausting his own. Reflecting upon this 
almost certain contingency leads him to meditate put- 
ting an abrupt end to these " Notes of European 
Travel," as you have so kindly christened his ram- 
bling letters; or rather, to put no end to them at all 



To Europe and Bach. 153 

and let them stop with the last, so that you would be 
as much surprised at the conclusion as you were at 
the beginning; which would be consistent, to say the 
least. 

Seriously, the trouble which afflicts me ( I must 
speak in the first person on so purely personal a mat- 
ter ) when I sit down to write to you, is that I have 
too much to. say and too little time to say it in. I 
have complained of this in some of my former letters 
and I dare say enough has been said on that point ; 
but here, in this vast metropolis, the difficulty is so 
much more intense than ever before that I must speak 
of it again, or burst. Of course it is not entirely 
without motive that I am so earnest. If I can suc- 
ceed in stamping upon the minds of my readers a fair 
impression of the disadvantages under which I write, 
they will the more leniently judge my work ; and I 
am very sure the widest cloak of charity will be re- 
quired to cover the multitude of sins which might be 
discovered in my letters by the mildest of critics. 
One feels very little like writing, I assure you, in the 
evening after a day's sight-seeing; and less still like 
taking a whole day to it when there is so much yet 
to be "done," and time is so limited and so very 
costly. It has required all the perseverance for which 
I so frequently claim credit to bring me to the point 
of writing lately, as you may have discovered, per- 
haps, when a rather longer interval than usual has 
passed between my letters. But this present is be- 



154 



Rough Notes of a Trip 



gun with greater reluctance than any of its predeces- 
sors. I only hope the hard writing will not prove 
equally hard reading. 

Well (to make a beginning), I must say something 
about our visit to St. Paul's Cathedral. Several days 
have passed since that event, but they have not been 
sufficient to efface the feeling of disappointment with 
which I emerged from that immense edifice. I could 
hardly realize that I had been inside a church, so 
little was there to inspire that feeling of religious 
awe which is proper to the place. No doubt this 
feeling arose from the fact that I had become dis- 
gusted with the mercenary spirit which appears to 
preside over the place. There is free admission to 
the body of the Cathedral, around which, in niches 
and on the walls, are erected beautiful monuments 
to the memory of many of England's departed. wor- 
thies. There are no seats in this part of the great 
temple, and it more resembles, both from the im- 
mensity of the space and the character of the archi- 
tecture, a public hall or exchange than a House of 
God. If one had not received this impression at the 
first entrance he would soon be helped to it — "by 
order of the Dean and Chapter," I presume — if his 
experience was like mine. We were in front of one 
of the finest memorials when an official approached 
and asked if we did not wish to buy tickets of admis- 
sion to the. other parts of the church. "By and by," 
I replied, "after we have seen this part." We passed 



To Mir ope mid Back. 155 

along to another monument, that of gruff old Sam. 
Johnson, I think; — and very queer he looked, with 
nothing on him but a robe arranged after the classic 
Greek fashion — I could not help fancying how tre- 
mendously he would have stormed if any one had 
proposed such a dress for him when he was in the 
flesh! Whilst we were standing there, recalling fa- 
miliar incidents in the life of the stout old Doctor, 
another fellow came and solicited us to buy some 
tickets. Him we paid no attention to. A vision of 
the burly lexicographer was before me at the moment, 
knocking down the bookseller with a copy of his big 
dictionary, and I could not help wishing that his ghost 
would dispose of the intrusive touter in a similar sum- 
mary way. But we kept on, quietly and leisurely 
examined all the monuments that were accessible to 
us, not without noticing, also, the placards which 
were frequently and conspicuously posted, giving a 
tariff of the charges for admission to the different 
parts of the Cathedral. At length we bought tickets 
to the vaults, another active drummer having per- 
suaded us (now that we were ready) that it was worth 
our wmile. We stumbled down a dark pair of stairs, 
and were soon groping our way about the vaults, 
which are only lighted here and there by grated win- 
dows. We found the tomb of Sir Christopher Wren, 
the architect of St. Paul's, and the tombs of many other 
eminent men, without assistance; but were beginning 
to think we should have to give up the search for 



156 Rough Notes of a Trip 

those of Nelson and Wellington, which are the main 
attraction, when a dapper little fellow came out with 
a party of visitors from one of the aisles into which 
we had tried in vain to enter, the door being fastened. 
As we had been stumbling we were still grumbling, 
whereupon he promptly informed us that it was the 
custom for people to wait at the foot of the dark 
stairs, until "a husher" could attend to them. We 
submitted to the rebuke in silence, and then the 
"husher" took our tickets and conducted us into a 
vault where the ashes of England's two greatest 
heroes repose. In a horrid cockney dialect he gave 
us the particulars of the tombs. There is nothing re- 
markable about Nelson's tomb. Wellington's is a 
splendid sarcophagus of brown stone, of immense size 
and weight. It is surrounded by captured battle-flags, 
regalia, and the funereal trappings which were used 
when the great captain was buried. The funeral car, 
which was cast from cannon taken by the Duke in 
some of his battles, is here preserved, and harnessed 
to it are models of the black horses which drew it in 
the procession, "hexackly like the horiginals," as our 
guide informed us. I should perhaps have thought it 
a splendid resting place for the departed hero, if I had 
not so recently visited the tomb of his mighty oppo- 
nent at the Invalides, in Paris. France has placed 
the ashes of Napoleon in so grand a temple that the 
tomb to which England has consigned all that was 
mortal of Wellington looks a poor affair by compari- 



To Europe and Bach, 157 

son. Napoleon's tomb is lighted from the great dome 
of the Invalides, and France invites all the world 
freely to visit the shrine. Wellington's tomb is in a 
dark cellar, and England charges all the world "six- 
pence a head" for a sight of it. All the world thinks 
England might forego the sixpence without loss of 
honor, though it might involve a slight sacrifice of 
profit. 

Ascending again, we paid some more sixpences for 
tickets to the Whispering Gallery round the base of 
the great dome. Two hundred and eighty steps took 
us up, where an old female in a greasy black dress, 
and bonnet to match, took our tickets and directed 
us to take seats about half way round the Gallery 
where some other visitors were sitting. By-and-bye, 
when a few more had come up so as to make it worth 
her while, she told us to hold our heads close to the 
wall, and then she whispered some particulars about 
the Cathedral which we heard very distinctly though 
we were nearly two hundred feet distant from her. 
The effect was very curious, the sound being as if the 
words were spoken in our ears, and in a much louder 
tone than the speaker used. The old woman was so 
very curt and disagreeable that I believe no one so- 
licited her to break the rule which was printed on the 
tickets, forbidding her to accept any gratuity; but 
she looked as though she thought us "a shabby lot" 
for omitting to do so. 

We might have gone higher and seen more, by buy- 



158 Sough Notes of a Trip 

ing some more tickets, but the stairs were too many, 
and we didn't want to spend the time — or the money. 
In truth, I was completely disgusted at the business- 
like air and grasping, avaricious spirit which were 
manifested on all sides. We hurried down stairs, 
found the touters still busy soliciting visitors to pro- 
cure tickets for the paying parts of the show, and 
went out of St. Paul's without the slightest impression, 
as I said before, that we had been in a Christian 
church, but heartily praying that the day might soon 
come when the Money-changers should be driven out 
of that Temple. I give no details about the noble 
structure, knowing that its general features and his- 
tory are familiar to all readers. I prefer in this case, 
as I have frequently done in others, to give the ex- 
perience and impressions of a sight-seer, rather than 
particulars which maybe obtained in any Hand-Book. 
But I must not forget to note that one is almost sure 
to be disappointed at the first near view of this mag- 
nificent Cathedral, for it is so crowded on all sides 
with buildings that it is impossible to realize a cor- 
rect idea of its vastness and beautiful proportions. 
Yet if the stranger sees it many times, as I have done, 
and tries to look at it from all points, he will admit 
that Londoners may well be proud of their Cathedral; 
and that its builder deserves that it should be called 
his monument. Do you remember the inscription 
which is cut on the plain marble slab erected to his 
memory over the entrance to the Choir? It is in 



To Europe and Back. 159 

Latin, of which the following is a translation : " Be- 
"neath lies Sir Christopher Wren, the builder 
u of this Church and City, who lived upwards of 
"ninety years, not for himself, but for the public 
"good. Reader, seekest thou his monument ? Look 
"around!" 

When I tell you that we have paid a visit to the 
" Old Lady of Threadneedle Street," you will under- 
stand that I was favored with a Visitor's Card to the 
Bank of England. No one but the Governor, or his 
Deputy, I was informed, could grant this favor, and 
it is not so easy as formerly to obtain the desired per- 
mission. A banking gentleman, with whom I had 
business, and who is also a Director in the Bank of 
England, was kind enough to procure me the card, 
which admitted five persons ; but I know he had to 
send several times before he could get it, and I was 
beginning to feel very sorry I had put him to the 
trouble. He said that visits caused such an interrup- 
tion of business that the Governor was obliged to 
be more chary of his permits. There are only three 
days in the week when an inspection of the institution 
is allowed. Of course this difficulty gave additional 
value to the privilege when it was obtained, and we 
were quite prepared to be awe-struck as we entered 
the building. A big porter, attired in gorgeous scar- 
let livery embroidered with gold lace, ushered us into 
the Bank, and another conducted us to a little private 
waiting room, where the sole ornament was an en- 



160 Rough Notes of a Trip 

graved likeness of the Bank's first governor. Here 
we were requested to be seated, while the porter took 
our card to an inner sanctuary. Very soon a little 
lame old chap in buff livery came to us. He looked 
as though he might have been in the Old Lady's ser- 
vice ever since his childhood, and undoubtedly was 
put upon this sort of light work because of his in- 
firmity. He requested me to inscribe my name and 
residence, and the name of the person by whom I had 
been introduced, in the visitors' book, and, this done, 
conducted us through the most interesting rooms of 
the vast establishment. It took nearly two hours to 
give a hurried glance at what he had to show, and I 
regret that space is not accorded me for a full descrip- 
tion of the wonders which were unfolded to us. 

In the first room to which we were conducted we 
saw self-acting machines at work weighing endless 
piles of sovereigns, passing those of full weight into 
one receptacle, and kicking the light ones into an- 
other. At certain intervals the attendants pour out 
the correct coins into measures, and the defective ones 
are taken to a machine which defaces them at the rate 
of two hundred a minute, so that they cannot be used 
again. All the sovereigns which are paid into the 
Bank in large quantities pass through this ordeal, and 
the light ones are returned to the depositor or taken 
at their value as old gold. I think there were at least 
a dozen of these weighing machines at work, and 
when I tell you that nearly fifty a minute are passed 



To Europe and Bach. 161 

through each, a very little mental arithmetic will give 
you an idea of the enormous amount of money which 
is sometimes tested in this room in a single day. 

In another room we saw a bigger pile of Mexican 
silver dollars than you could dream of. A score of 
clerks were busy counting them, and the chief man 
told us that three millions of these nice solid-looking 
coins had been received from Mexico within a week. 
I presume they were to pay the interest on some 
Mexican bonds. I would have liked a few bushels of 
them, and could hardly believe that so small a quan- 
tity would be missed. We were allowed to handle 
some bricks of pure gold, weighing about fourteen 
pounds each, and it occurred to me that one might be 
excused for wishing to have "a brick in his hat" of 
that sort. 

We went into another and larger room, crowded 
with desks, where about fifty clerks were hard at 
work examining and defacing bank notes. You know, 
I presume, that the Bank of England never re-issues 
one of its notes. When they are first sent out upon 
their travels a record of each individual note is made, 
and by a process of consecutive numbering no two 
notes are exactly alike. As soon as they return home 
they are compared with the record, scrutinized to de- 
tect forgeries, mutilated, and then put away where 
they can be found at any moment for ten years to 
come. Not one of them is permitted to try a second 
course of adventures. Many, of course, come back 



162 Rough Notes of a Trip 

the same day, just as clean and fresh and crisp as 
when they went out in the morning; but they are 
treated quite as harshly as those which are brought 
back in a ragged, dirty, disreputable-looking condi- 
tion, after traveling all over the world and partici- 
pating in the dissipations of all countries. Notes to 
the amount of more than a million pounds sterling 
were cancelled on the day we visited the Bank. It 
seemed a pity to see so much nice-looking money — 
good for its face anywhere — so ruthlessly destroyed ; 
but such is the system of the Old Lady of Threadneedle 
Street. It must cost the old girl a pretty penny to 
keep it up, but she does it bravely. The object is to 
afford the public the strongest possible protection 
against fraud. Every note ever issued by the Bank has 
its appropriate place in a book, and if it ever comes 
back its record is marked out, and then it is dead. 
No matter how well executed may be a counterfeit, 
two of the same number cannot be redeemed without 
the fraud being detected before the day is over. 

The note itself is quite a costly piece of work, for 
no expense is spared in its production. All the work, 
except making the paper, is done upon the Bank's 
premises. The best of materials are used in all the 
branches. The paper is of wonderful tenacity, a sheet, 
though so thin as to weigh only eighteen grains, be- 
ing able to sustain fifty-six pounds weight. The 
printing ink is made from the charred husks and seeds 
and vines of Rhenish grapes, mixed with linseed oil, 



To Europe and Back. 163 

and is of extraordinary intensity of blackness. The 
greater part of the lettering of the notes is printed 
from steel plates, but the numbering and cypher work 
is done on the ordinary printing press. I believe each 
note goes through the presses three or four times 
and between thirty and forty thousand are printed 
every day. The cost of producing all these paper 
promises, as I said before, cannot be a light mat- 
ter, and it looks a little extravagant, therefore, to 
see them destroyed almost as soon as they are printed, 
which is the case with the bulk of them. A very 
stringent copyright protects these brief works of the 
Old Lady. To imitate one of her notes involved 
capital punishment until 1831, when the penalty was 
changed to transportation. The latter penalty is 
meted to the man who merely imitates the paper on 
which her bills are printed. 

The nice old porter conducted us through an im- 
mense number of rooms, including the printing and 
bookbinding departments, and more others than I can 
now remember. The printing office was a pretty ex- 
tensive concern, but the bookbindery was something 
astonishing. Between three and four hundred ac- 
count books are ruled, printed and bound for the use 
of the Old Lady's clerks every week. 

The business of the Bank is greatly increased by its 
agency for the British Government. The interest on 
the different classes of the national debt are paid 
here. There are at least a dozen separate offices for 



164 Sough Notes of a Trip 

this work, each more spacious than most of our larg- 
est banks, and employing a great many clerks. On 
"dividend day," I am told, the scene in these depart- 
ments is one of extraordinary animation and activity, 
and the amount of business which is done between 
nine and five o'clock of such a day is almost incredible. 
Confusion would be worse confounded if it were not 
for the perfect system of doing the work. Each room 
has a large sign indicating the particular kind of bonds 
which are there attended to, and the desks are let- 
tered so as to show where to apply, according to the 
name in which the bonds stand. If I were fortunate 
enough, we will say, to be one of England's creditors, 
and wanted to get the interest of my money, being a 
stranger I should very likely go to the wrong room, 
if one of the army of porters on duty about the courts 
did not point out the right one. Once safely there, 
even so stupid a fellow as this present writer could 
hardly go to the wrong desk when the letter " M " 
plainly stares him in the face from the right one. 
The government securities are held in the names of 
the owners, and certain days in every week are ap- 
pointed for transfers of the stock. Most of this busi- 
ness is done through brokers. When a sale of stock 
is made, buyer and seller, or their agents, go to the 
Bank, and a clerk examines the register to see if the 
seller actually owns the stock which he proposes to 
transfer. If all is correct the transfer is made out, 
the parties sign the book, and the purchaser thence- 



To Europe and Bach. 165 

forth has " money in the funds" until he in turn parts 
with the right. 

It was too late in the day for us to obtain admission 
to the bullion room, which I should have the more re- 
gretted if I had not, very shortly before I left America, 
been shut up in a little room in the Treasury Depart- 
ment at Washington, in which room there were about 
two hundred millions of symbolic dollars, a few mill- 
ions of which I was permitted to have in possession a 
moment or two ; and that was quite as much money 
and quite as good money as I cared about seeing. But 
our guide showed us all he could, and told us all he 
knew about what we saw, and was altogether such a 
clever old soul that I slipped a good reward into his 
hand, in spite of the injunction upon my ticket to the 
effect that "gratuities to the Company's servants are 
not permitted." I dare say he was grateful, but I am 
sure he was not surprised, (nobody about the Bank 
could be surprised by money, I think,) which led me 
to the conclusion that this rule of the Worshipful 
Company, like the rules of many other corporations, 
was a mere dead letter. 

When we were out of the Bank I took a good look 
at its exterior, and having driven around it obtained 
an idea of its immense extent. It covers an area of 
about eight acres, but is a very singular-looking pile, 
having not a single outside window, the light being 
admitted to the various departments by nine open 
courts. There are nearly a thousand persons em- 
8* 



166 Rough Notes of a Trip 

ployed within its walls, and the Company pays sala- 
ries and pensions to the amount of a quarter a million 
of pounds sterling per annum. The Old Lady takes 
good care of her servants. In whatever capacity they 
labor, they receive increased pay according to the 
length of time they have been in her service ; and after 
a certain number of years they can retire upon a pen- 
sion equal to the highest salaries they have enjoyed. 
It is said that not a few of them become so attached 
to the service that they continue their work for years 
after they might receive just as much money without 
any labor at all, a fact that speaks well for both mis- 
tress and servants. Many are the stories current il- 
lustrating this devotion to the Old Lady. A former 
Chief Cashier was never known to ask a holiday but 
once, and then only for a fortnight. But he returned 
after three days, satisfied that there was no recreation 
worth taking, except in the service of his mistress. 
Another old servant, on his death-bed, expressed the 
wish to die on the steps of the Bank ! 

To jump from St. Paul's Cathedral and the Bank 
of England down to a Wax-work show is to go from 
the sublime to the ridiculous, I am sure my readers 
will think, whose notions of wax-work are formed 
from what they have seen in Barnum's Museum. But 
I can assure them that the comparison may be as 
properly drawn between St. Paul's and an American 
country church, or between the Bank of England and 
an American country bank, as between Madame Tus- 



To Europe and Back. 167 

saud's Wax-work Exhibition, of which I am about to 
speak, and anything in that line ever displayed by 
the great American showman. The establishment is 
now in Portman Square, one of the most fashionable 
parts of the city, and is fitted up in really elegant 
style. In the different saloons there are more than 
three hundred full-length figures of historical person- 
ages, attired as they appeared in life, and some of 
them certainly remarkably correct likenesses. The 
figures are arranged in groups, the principal ones, of 
course, being composed of royal Courts. The gorge- 
ous and costly robes worn on State occasions are here 
faithfully reproduced, at an expense which must have 
been enormous. The first room which attracts the 
visitor's attention is a memorial or shrine in honor of 
the Duke of Wellington, in which the departed hero 
is represented as he looked when Lying in State, 
surrounded by the emblems of the various honors 
which had been heaped upon him. The likeness is 
said to be perfect. Upon a wall of this room hangs 
Sir G. Hayter's great picture of " Wellington visit- 
ing the Relics of Napoleon," the portrait in it being 
the last the Duke sat for. This is a very fine paint- 
ing, but only one of many valuable pictures which are 
displayed in the rooms. In fact, the exhibition is 
worth visiting as a Picture Gallery, quite independent 
of the attractions offered by the wax-work models. 
One room, called the Golden Chamber, is filled with 
interesting relics of the Emperor Napoleon ; among 



168 Rough Notes of a Trip 

others, the camp bedstead which he used during seven 
years at St. Helena, with the mattrasses and pillow 
on which he died. On the bed reposes a figure of 
the exile in his Chasseur uniform and the cloak he 
wore at Marengo. The likeness is from the original 
cast from his face taken by his surgeon. Portraits 
and busts of the various members of the Bonaparte 
family are in this room, and the regalia and State 
robes of the Court. In an adjoining room are placed 
the Emperor's carriage captured at Waterloo, his 
State carriage, and the one he used at St. Helena. It 
would take more space than I can spare to mention 
the curious relics of the great warrior which are gath- 
ered together in this room. There is another room, 
called the " Chamber of Horrors," which is filled with 
the figures of some of the worst criminals which this 
wicked world has produced. Here, also, is a model 
of the first Guillotine, and the identical Knife which 
decapitated twenty-two thousand persons during the 
first French Revolution, amongst whom were Louis 
XVI., Marie Antoinette, the Due de Orleans, and 
most of the best blood of France, as well as Robe- 
spierre, Carrier, and others among the worst. This 
Knife is called "the most extraordinary relic in the 
world," and was bought from the grandson of the 
original executioner. I fear you will begin to think 
that I am trying to write a "first-rate puff" of this 
establishment, but you will be mistaken if you do, for 
I have only intended to impress my opinion on the 



To Europe and Back. 169 

reader, who may meditate a visit to London, that 
Tussaud's Wax-work Exhibition is one of the most 
interesting of London sights. 

The greater part of a day ought to be spent in the 
Zoological Gardens in Regent's Park, though I unfor- 
tunately had to " do " them in a few hours. I sup- 
pose it is the most complete collection in the world. 
Certainly I have seen nothing like it. The Gardens 
are very extensive and beautifully laid out, and would 
be worth a visit if for nothing more than to see the 
grounds and flowers. Everything is arranged in pic- 
turesque style — clumps of shrubby trees, patches of 
flowers, miniature lakes, rustic cottages, green mea- 
dows with little paddocks for the deer and other ani- 
mals, great houses for the larger animals, and cages 
of wire and glass as big as mansions where the birds 
live apparently as much at home as in their native 
woods. Neat gravel walks conduct the visitors to 
the different departments, and one is pretty sure to 
meet in his path a huge elephant carrying a castle 
loaded with delighted children. The collection num- 
bers nearly two thousand living specimens, more than 
a hundred and fifty belonging to the mammalia alone, 
among which are a pair of splendid hippopotami. 
There are an immense number of monkeys, some so 
big and human-looking that one expects to hear them 
speak ; but you need not infer, because I make special 
mention of the monkeys, that I have a fellow feeling 
for them. " On the contrary, quite the reverse." I 



170 Rough Notes of a Trip 

cannot catalogue the collection for you ; let it suffice 
to say that almost every known specimen which is 
exhibited in any city is duplicated here. 

I begin to find that I have gone too much into de- 
tail thus far in this letter, so that I have no room to 
say a word about many other matters of which I 
ought to tell you. I have spent much time in the 
streets, which have a peculiar attraction for me. 
One gets a better idea of London in walking about 
the city than in any other way. You- soon realize 
something of its vastness. The never-ending din 
and turmoil is spread over so vast a space that 
it seems impossible to find an end to it. Yet there 
are many green spots in the mighty wilderness of 
houses, even at its very heart. Were it not for 
the Parks many poor Londoners would never see a 
foot of God's green earth. Oh ! what misery, sin and 
wretchedness confront the stranger at every turn! 
I have seen more of squalid poverty here in two weeks 
than in all my life before, and yet I have not been 
into the lower portions of the city. Such dirty drabs 
of ragged women at every corner, begging for money, 
to be spent at the gin-palaces most likely! It is 
CQmmon to suppose that beer is the favorite drink of 
the lower classes of the English. Perhaps it is — in 
the country. In London I should say that gin is the 
ruling passion, certainly with the poor women. To 
an American it looks very strange to see women 
walking alone into these crowded Temples of Intern- 



To Europe and Back. 171 

perance, at late hours of the night, and call for their 
drams of gin — some of them, too, not altogether with- 
out an air of respectability about them. At least, if 
all the women who drink gin in public houses at night 
in London are bad women, I wonder how the rising 
generation of Londoners can have any respect for 
their mothers. They are such quarrelsome wretches 
also. I have had occasion several times to take a 
" Hansom " in the evening a not long distance. I 
don't think there has been a time in which I have not 
passed a crowd gathered around some women scream- 
ing and fighting. Last night a scene of this kind oc- 
curred, which I observed from my window. It was 
past midnight. Hearing a woman's voice scolding 
and swearing, I looked out. Across the street, near a 
gin-palace, three women in black rags were standing. 
One was a tall, big creature, and she was the noisy 
one. She was using fearful language and threatening 
to " take the liver out " of a smaller woman, who 
seemed to be quietly mocking her. Suddenly the lit- 
tle woman darted at the big one like a tigress, tore 
off her bonnet, and would doubtless have "punished" 
her opponent dreadfully if a policeman had not come 
up at the moment and separated them. I supposed 
he would march them off to the station-house, but he 
did not. He started the big one off one way ( she all 
the time loudly promising to " do for " the other at 
some future time ), whilst the little woman and her 
companion quietly walked into the gin-shop, perhaps 



172 Rough Notes of a Trip 

to celebrate the victory. I wondered why these 
women were not arrested, but a moment's reflection 
convinced me that the policemen must be instructed 
not to make arrests unless absolute mischief or injury 
is done ; for if they did incarcerate all the fighting 
women there would have to be twice as many lock- 
ups as there are in London. I know you will think I 
might find a pleasanter topic than this to write about, 
but I must remind you that I write of matters which 
impress me most, without paying much regard to the 
fitness of things. 

I do not in this letter so much as mention many 
notable places which I have visited, for it seems 
hardly worth while to say " I have been " here and 
there, or " I have seen " this and that, or " I have 
heard " so and so ; and that would be all I should 
have room for now. Since my last I have made a 
trip to a certain old town about a hundred miles 
from here — a dull sleepy little place in Suffolk, which 
has not an object worth the tourist's attention, never 
produced a celebrated man, and the only incident in 
whose history that has been thought worthy of re- 
cord is the fact that Queen Elizabeth passed through 
it in one of her state progresses — yet an old town 
that I was more anxious to visit than any other place 
in Europe. You will guess the reason why. Noth- 
ing was changed, hardly, since I saw it twenty-one 
years ago, and yet how different everything looked 
from what I expected ! Can that little stream be the 



To Europe and Back. 



173 



river of which I used to be so proud? Are those 
dingy little holes the splendid shops which used to 
display such treasures in their windows ? Did I 
ever think it a great feat to " buck " over those low 
posts ? Such and such-like questions I was continu- 
ally asking myself. But it was not all disappointment 
either. There were some pleasures for me in that old 
town worth the journey across the Atlantic to pro- 
cure. But this cannot interest more than a very 

few of my readers, yet I am sure the rest will pardon 
the digression. 

I must close this letter, but not until I have told 
you that Dr. W. and his party arrived to-day from 
Paris, and are stopping at the same hotel with me. 
Many of your readers will be glad to hear they are 
all well. Good-bye, 



174 Rough Notes of a Trip 



XL 

SOMETHING MORE ABOUT THE SIGHTS OF LONDON. — THE 
PALACE OF SYDENHAM, AND A GRAND CONCERT THEREIN. 
— A TRIP TO RICHMOND, AND A DINNER AT THE STAR 
AND GARTER. — A RAMBLE IN KEW GARDENS. — VISITS 
TO LAMBETH PALACE, AND " THE TIMES" OFFICE. — A 
DAY AT WINDSOR. — WESTMINSTER ABBEY. — AN ENIGMA 
SOLVED. — FAREWELL TO LONDON. 

Portsmouth, Sept. 6th, 1866. 

I did not intend to let the last steamer sail without 
carrying you a letter from me, but the fates were 
against me. I could not find time to write the last 
week in London, a fact which will not, I am sure, 
astonish any of my readers who know the place. 
There are so many " sights " you feel reluctant to go 
away without seeing — so many things which must 
be done whether you see anything or not — that the 
time left for writing must be taken out of the night, 
and it is a chance whether you do not find such work 
a physical impossibility after the fatigues of the day. 
At any rate that was my experience, and the conse- 
quence is that I must depend upon my memory more 



To Europe and Back. 175 

than I usually do for what I shall now write touch- 
ing our adventures since the date of my last letter. 
And when I say " our adventures " please understand 
that I now include five persons, the friends of whom I 
spoke recently having returned from Paris and joined 
my little party — intending, also, to sail with us for 
home. 

In my first letter from London I spoke of a day 
spent at the Sydenham Crystal Palace, and said we 
would endeavor to go there again, having only seen 
sufficient on that occasion to convince us that, in com- 
parison of what there was to be seen in the Palace, 
we had seen nothing. We did spend another day at 
that bewildering place, and the result was as before 
— we wanted to go again. It was something of a sa- 
crifice to go the second time, when we took into con- 
sideration the number of places we should not be able 
to visit at all, so few were the days left to us in the 
great metropolis if we sailed for America on the day 
appointed according to our original plan ; but even 
when we had studied the list we had drawn up of 
places which every stranger ought to visit, and found 
that more than two-thirds of them were impossible 
pleasures for us, we still decided that we would rather 
pay a second visit to the Crystal Palace than a first 
to any of the other " sights" of London. 

I speak of the Sydenham Palace as one of the sights 
of London. Properly speaking, of course it is not, 
Sydenham being between seven and eight miles from 



176 Bough Notes of a Trip 

the city; but so many trains run there every day, 
and the fare is such a trifle, that the Palace is far 
easier and less expensive to reach than many locali- 
ties within the modern Babylon. Besides, there is 
no one place where so many Londoners can be seen 
at one time ; so it is fair enough to speak of it as one 
of the many sights of which London can boast. The 
managers of the Palace advertise it as "the most won- 
derful shilling's worth of amusement in the world," 
and so it is, and so it would be if there was nothing 
but the Palace, its contents, and the grounds to see. 
But there are some very attractive performances 
given there every day, the principal feature offered 
this season having been a series of ballad concerts by 
the best artists to be had in London. You will not 
wonder that, after we had examined the programme 
for the u Last of the Season," and found that Sims 
Reeves, Madame Parepa, Miss Edmonds, Madame 
Rudersdorff and Mr. Weiss were to sing, that Mr. 
Levy was to play some of his surprising cornet solos, 
and that the famous band of the Coldstream Guards 
was to be in the orchestra — you will not wonder, I 
say, after reading this list of attractions, that we came 
to the conclusion that we could not possibly choose a 
better day for our second visit. I had a greater de- 
sire to hear Sims Reeves than any other singer whom 
I never had heard, having read much of the wonder- 
ful ability and hardly less remarkable eccentricity of 
the great English tenor. I frankly confess, also, that 



To Europe and Back. 177 

I expected to be disappointed in him; but, having 
heard him, I must as frankly admit that in my opin- 
ion he deserves his high reputation. 

However, this is not the orthodox method of dish- 
ing up a day's sight-seeing : I ought to begin at the 
beginning, as is my usual custom — and a tedious 
custom it is, I am frequently reminded. If I do follow 
that plan now I must tell you that the trip to Syden- 
ham is well worth taking, if only to see what an enor- 
mously expensive piece of railway you travel over, 
if you take the route known as the " High Level." 
This is one continued mass of bridge and masonry 
work, almost the whole distance, being built above 
the level of the houses for the most part. I think 
there are nearly a dozen stopping places in less than 
eight miles, and if London keeps on growing as rap- 
idly as it does at present, there is very little doubt 
that in a few years Sydenham will in reality be a 
part of the great city. 

After we arrived at the Palace we spent a good deal 
of our spare time in the Picture Gallery, which is 
really one of the most attractive as well as one of the 
most useful features of the enterprise. There are 
more than twelve hundred paintings exhibited, the 
greater part being the works of modern British ar- 
tists, with a good sprinkling of foreign pictures, and 
a few valuable works of the old masters. The superb 
copies of the celebrated Cartoons of Raphael, at 
Hampton Court, which were painted by Antonio 



178 Rough Notes of a Trip 

Verrio, by order of William the Third, are there, and 
(I mention the fact for the benefit of our Academy 
of Fine Arts) these seven paintings are waiting for a 
purchaser — but I did not enquire the price. Indeed, 
nearly all the pictures are for sale, the price being 
plainly attached to each, a plan which adds much to 
the interest of the exhibition. One likes to know the 
value which is placed upon a picture, whether he 
wants to buy it or not ; and if he does decide to pur- 
chase, he is quite certain of getting his picture at the 
artists' price. The paintings are sent in by artists, 
with the price they hold them at. The Company re- 
jects all such as possess no merit, nor do they allow 
any copies to be exhibited. I have seen no better 
place to select modern pictures from. American gen- 
tlemen who are forming Galleries would do well to 
examine this collection. I noticed a good many really 
beautiful works which would be snapped up quickly 
in our town at a good advance above the prices 
marked — a hint for dealers. For myself, I was 
strongly — very strongly — tempted to spend money 
that I could not afford. You, who know me, will 
understand what a trial this was, and you can " fancy 
my feelings " quite correctly, I am sure. 

After looking at the pictures there was but little 
time left before the concert commenced, but we im- 
proved it in wandering about the long aisles and gal- 
leries of the wonderful Palace. At every step we saw 
something to admire — something we had not noticed 



To Europe and Back. 179 

on our first visit ; or, if we had, we found we had not 
looked at it half enough. What a grand scene that 
was which we enjoyed from the centre of the Nave, 
where the best general view of the interior of the Pal- 
ace can be obtained! Near us was a magnificent 
crystal fountain standing in a sheet of water bordered 
with rich flowers. At each end of this fairy lake the 
gigantic leaves of the Victoria JRegia were floating, 
and the intermediate space was filled with various 
other aquatic plants, rare and beautiful. The airy 
arches of the lofty roof were mirrored in the clear 
water, wherever its glittering surface was free from 
the dark green leaves of the plants. Great trees and 
shrubs and plants of almost every clime were growing 
on either side of the Nave, setting off with perfect 
harmony the pure white of the marble statues which 
were interspersed in the scene. 

But we could not linger on this enchanted ground 
more than a few minutes, for we wanted to take a 
peep into the numerous Courts which form so inter- 
esting and instructive a feature in the arrangement of 
the building. The object of these Courts is to pre- 
sent "specimens of the various phases through which 
the arts of Architecture and Sculpture have passed, 
commencing from the earliest known period, and com- 
ing down to modern times — a period of more than 
three thousand years." To carry out this idea great 
spaces of the Palace are built and fitted up into dif- 
ferent Courts, standing in which the visitor may 



180 Rough Notes of a Trip 

imagine himself transported as if by magic to other 
lands in other ages. So immense is the extent of the 
Palace that room is afforded for the perfect develop- 
ment of this plan. There is an Egyptian Court, a 
Greek Court, a Roman Court, an Alhambra Court, an 
Assyrian Court, a Byzantine and Romanesque Court, 
a German Mediaeval Court, an English Mediaeval 
Court, a Pompeian Court, and various Vestibules, 
each large enough to look like the original, and each, 
both in exterior and interior decorations, a correct 
representation of the style imitated. A moderate- 
sized volume would hardly contain a description of 
the contents of these Courts alone. They are filled 
with specimens of the Arts of the different periods 
and countries. 

We could not even give a look at the thousand- 
and-one other attractions of the Palace, and we 
found ourselves very soon discussing the possibility 
of giving a third day to the work, when, by coming 
very early, staying very late, and improving every 
fleeting moment of the time, we might perchance 
manage to bring away an intelligible idea of what 
there was to be seen. The Palace is of such immense 
extent that a mere walk through its many aisles and 
galleries is no light undertaking. A week could be 
spent in admiring the marvellous structure, and the 
beautiful grounds belonging to it; and if I had the 
time to spare I would give the week to the work. 
But I must not prose about the wonders of the Palace 



To Europe and Back. 181 

any longer, or I shall be too late for the concert, and 
I would not like to miss any of the entertainment. 
The concerts are given in the centre transept, a vast 
space being fitted up for the purpose. I wondered 
how it could be possible to hear the singers, suppos- 
ing their voices would be lost in that immense build- 
ing, but soon discovered that there was no difficulty 
about it, at least not where our seats were. There 
were at least ten thousand people present, I should 
think, fully one-fourth of the number having taken 
seats at half-a-crown, or at a shilling, extra ; for, you 
must know, that though a shilling admits you to the 
Palace, and to the concert, there are no seats pro- 
vided except for the above additional prices ; so it is 
not so very cheap a concert, after all, if you want a 
good place. I gave you the names of the performers, 
in the beginning, and you will be prepared to believe 
that the entertainment was a fine one ; but I think it 
will astonish some of your readers who have heard 
Madame Parepa, to learn that Sims Reeves was a 
greater attraction, was more loudly applauded, and 
more persistently encored, than that glorious singer. 
He sang " The Maid of Llangollen," " When other 
Lips," and the " Death of Nelson." I was not much 
surprised — perhaps even a little disappointed — at 
the first and second, for though his voice was beauti- 
fully pure and sweet, and his execution perfect, he 
had not as much power as I had expected ; but I 
never heard a song so well sung, with such wonder- 



182 Rough Notes of a Trip 

ful expression and with such an amazing effect, as his 
last song. The great audience was excited to the 
wildest enthusiasm, waved hats and handkerchiefs, 
and demanded a repetition with an emphasis that was 
not to be denied. The singer tried to be let off with 
bowing his acknowledgment of the compliment. He 
had succeeded in this when recalled after his other 
songs, but it would not do now : the applause and 
cheering were growing almost frantic, when he came 
out the second time and repeated the last verse. Of 
course some of this enthusiasm was due to the senti- 
ment of the piece, but yet no one could deny that the 
applause was well deserved. Sims Reeves must be 
nearly fifty years old. He is a rather small man, with 
short black curly hair and a black — too black — 
moustache. His face is deeply lined, the tracings 
being, I fear, not entirely the work of age. If he 
ever sung better than he does now, which would seem 
to be almost certain considering his years and his not 
altogether abstemious habits, he must have been a 
glorious tenor indeed. He treats his audiences very 
cavalierly, it is said, and the chances are considered 
about even that he witt disappoint them when he is 
expected to appear. He has occasioned more mana- 
gerial apologies than any artist living, and sometimes 
gets awfully "wigged" by the public inconsequence. 
But they say that hisses inspire him — that he sings 
his best always just after he has behaved his worst, 
and that no audience can be ill-tempered with him 



To Europe and Bach. 183 

when he does sing his best. All of which I am pre- 
pared to believe, now that I have heard him sing 
"The Death of Nelson." 

After having said so much about Mr. Reeves, yon 
will certainly think me ungallant if I do not say at 
least as much of the female performers, but I can't 
help that — I have not the time, nor can you spare 
me the room. Besides, you all know the magnificent 
Parepa — I could not speak any higher praise of her 
than she has already received with yon. She sang 
three ballads, and was each time encored. Madame 
Rudersdorif is a fine-looking woman, with an ex- 
tremely powerful soprano voice ; but I imagine that 
her best days as a singer passed some years ago. 
Miss Edmonds is a very pretty singer, and must ap- 
pear to great advantage in a concert room. Mr. 
Weiss is not likely to set the Thames on fire, though 
he is considered a first-rate artist, I believe. You 
have not forgotten the tremendous strains which the 
Levy blew from that cornet. He blew harder than 
ever this time, as though he would fill that vast space 
with sound. He appears to be very popular. Take 
it for all in all, it was a great concert, well worth the 
money it cost to hear it, including the extra half- 
crowns for seats. 

You have heard of Richmond Hill, and of the fa- 
mous " Star and Garter " tavern. We spent a day in 
visiting that delightful place, taking a lovely day (oh, 
rare event!) for it, and doing the journey — about 



184 Rough Notes of a Trip 

ten miles — by carriage. I suppose there is no pret- 
tier spot in England than Richmond, and the view 
from the window of the great coffee room of the Star 
and Garter, just upon the brow of the hill, is one not 
to be forgotten. The beautiful valley of the Thames 
is seen for a long distance, the silvery stream gleam- 
ing in the sunlight as it winds its tortuous way to the 
sea. Everybody makes a point of going to Richmond, 
and everybody is right. I suppose they nearly all 
dine at least once at the Star and Garter, too, and 
perhaps a second time — if they have any money left. 
You can certainly get a splendid dinner there, but 
you will just as certainly have to pay a splendid price 
for it. The greatest state is observed in the service. 
The head man in the coffee room looks as though he 
might be Grand Butler to the Queen, and the waiters 
are very solemnly polite. Perhaps there is just a lit- 
tle too much ceremony for comfort. The unsophisti- 
cated guest is apt to be a little over-awed by it, and, 
consequently, to become nervous and awkward, as 
was the case with a certain friend of mine, a not gen- 
erally bashful gentleman, who dropped a potato on 
the floor whilst we were dining. That unfortunate 
man was seated at the same table with me — was in 
the same party in fact. At home he is not given to 
such practices — was never accused of nervous mod- 
esty in all his life. Shall I ever forget the cold chill 
of horror which ran through me when the miserable 
potato dodged his fork and jumped upon the floor, 



To Europe and Back. 185 

spitefully rolling into a conspicuous place where it 
was the observed of all observers? Of course the 
solemn humbug of a waiter did not fail to make the 
most of the situation. I see him now, spreading a 
large napkin over the obnoxious vegetable and care- 
fully lifting it, as though it was the hottest potato 
that ever was cooked ! " Do men travel three or four 
thousand miles away from home to drop potatoes at 
the dinner table ? " I sternly demanded of the guilty 
wretch who brought down ridicule upon us. I re- 
joiced, and glory in the confession though I was my- 
self a fellow-sufferer, when I saw what a snug little 
sum the feast had cost him. 

Whatever effect this incident may have had upon 
my appetite, it did not quite spoil our enjoyment of 
the drive through the magnificent Park, one of the 
finest in England, nearly nine miles in circumference. 
The extensive grounds of this splendid domain present 
a variety of scenery which is enchanting to the eye. 
Some of the noblest trees I ever saw are there, and 
the gently-rising slopes are alive with deer. The 
Park belongs to the Crown, but has for many genera- 
tions been freely open to the public ; in fact it may 
now be said to belong to the public. Charles the 
First enclosed it with a brick wall, an offence which 
was one of the counts in his indictment. In the reign 
of George the Third an attempt was made to exclude 
the public, but a brewer named Lewis contested the 
case with the Crown and established a right of way. 



186 Rough Notes of a Trip 

Since then the privileges of the people have not been 
interfered with. 

We had driven before dinner about the village, and 
admired the prospect from the summit of Richmond 
Hill. I don't like to copy another man's description 
of this view, especially as my own poor words will 
appear still more thread-bare by comparison — but 
yet I want to give you the best idea I can of what we 
saw, and this is right to my hand : 

" Of all that belongs to the beautiful in scenery nothing 
here is wanting. Wood and water, softly swelling hills and 
hazy distance, with village spires and lordly halls, are blend- 
ed in beautiful harmony. From the gentle slope of the hill a 
vast expanse of country stretches far away, 'till the distance 
is closed by the hills of Buckinghamshire on the north-west, 
and the Surrey Downs on the south-east, and all this inter- 
mediate space is one wide valley of the most luxuriant fertil- 
ity; but appearing to the eye a succession of densely wooded 
tracts, broken and diversified by a few undulations of barren 
uplands, and here and there a line of white vapory smoke, 
with a tower or spire marking the site of a goodly town or 
humble village. In the midst the broad placid river, studded 
with islets and its surface alive with flocks of swans and innu- 
merable pleasure skiffs, winds gracefully away 'till lost among 
the foliage, only to be occasionally tracked afterward by a 
glittering thread of silver seen as the sun glances suddenly 
upon it between the dark trunks of the trees ; and something 
of majesty is added to the exceeding loveliness by Windsor's 
royal towers which loom out finely on the distant horizon." 

On the way to Richmond we had stopped for an 
hour or so at the Kew Gardens, one of the most fa- 
mous sights of London, but, like many of its other 



To Europe and Back. 187 

attractions, some considerable distance from the city. 
The Gardens are not very extensive, but they are most 
beautifully laid out, and the grounds are kept in ad- 
mirable order. The collection of plants from all parts 
of the world is a rare one, and all have been arranged 
and labeled by Sir William Hooker. Numerous flower 
beds, conservatories and hot-houses invite attention. 
Some of the glass houses look like miniature Crystal 
Palaces, but only in miniature when compared with 
that enormous building. One, called the great Palm 
House, is sixty feet high, and was constructed at a 
cost of nearly two hundred thousand dollars. This is 
filled with the choicest exotics. Among the most at- 
tractive of the plants are the Egyptian Papyrus, the 
Bread-fruit tree, the Cow tree, the Cocoa-nut, Coffee, 
Banana, and a beautiful Weeping Willow, reared from 
a slip taken from the tree which shaded Napoleon's 
grave at St. Helena. There is an enclosed Conserva- 
tory or winter garden, more than twice as large as the 
Palm House; a Museum in which every variety of 
wood, in planks and blocks, are exhibited; and a 
Temperate House two hundred and twelve feet long, 
one hundred and thirty-seven wide, and sixty high, 
with two wings one hundred and twelve feet by sixty- 
two. A pretty little lake has lately been constructed, 
having communication with the Thames by a tunnel 
under the river terrace. This beautiful place is main- 
tained at the public expense, and improvements are 
being constantly made. It was hard to be content 



188 Rough Notes of a Trip 

with the brief visit we could only give, but we made 
the best of it. 

I am told that it is not an easy matter to obtain ad- 
mittance to Lambeth Palace, the town residence of 
the Archbishops of Canterbury, and I must therefore 
record my thanks to the kind friend (Dr. W.) whose 
courtesy procured us this pleasure. It is a curious 
iand venerable structure, exhibiting various styles of 
architecture, many Archbishops having added to the 
original building during the six centuries that it 
has been the archiepiscopal residence. The Chapel, 
in which the Archbishops are always consecrated, and 
where the first American Bishop was consecrated, is 
six hundred years old. At its western end is a tower, 
called the Lollard's Tower, from some Lollards or 
Wickliffites having been imprisoned there. We 
climbed up into a little room at the top of this tower 
which appeared to have been the actual place of con- 
finement. Strong iron rings were in the walls, and 
many names of the prisoners, with pious ejaculations 
and broken sentences, were cut in the thick oak wain- 
scotting. One of these inscriptions, considering the 
solitude of the unfortunate prisoner, appeals strongly 
to the sympathies of the beholder: "J7is cyppe me 
out of alle el compane, Amen" (Jesus, keep me 
out of all evil company.) 

We were conducted through all but the private 
apartments of the Palace, one of which, it was whis- 
pered to us, was occupied by a little stranger, not 



To Europe and Back. 189 

entirely unconnected with an interesting event an- 
nounced a few days previous in The Times. I won- 
der if Archbishops are as pleased and proud as other 
grandfathers proverbially are? This is a digression, 
however. I must go back, and speak of the great li- 
brary, founded by Archbishop Bancroft, who died in 
1610, and now containing twenty-five thousand vol- 
umes, many of them scarce works of ancient date, 
with a goodly list of rare old books of divinity. The 
great hall of the Palace is hung with the portraits of 
all the Archbishops. Lambeth is not considered a 
healthy part of the town, but the Palace is a very 
stately residence. It is fit, indeed, that it should be, 
for is not the Archbishop of Canterbury Primate of 
all England and first subject of the Crown, taking 
rank next after the royal family? Back of the Palace 
are extensive gardens (about thirty acres) beautifully 
laid out, and, as seen from the river, w T ith the tall old 
trees in the back ground, adding much to the pictur- 
esque effect of the building. 

I could not expect to astonish you with an account 
of our visit to the office of The Times, though there 
was one circumstance connected with it which aston- 
ished us all, viz: it was the only place any 'of the 
party had yet visited in England, where a fee to the 
person who showed us about was absolutely refused ; 
a circumstance, you may be sure, in which I took no 
little professional pride. Being Saturday, it was not 
the best day to see the operations of the great news- 



190 Rough Notes of a Trip 

paper, but yet we saw enough to admire and wonder 
at. There is not so much difference, however, in 
the workings of this concern and the first-class papers 
of America, as I had expected to find. I cannot help 
the belief that much of the importance with which 
the " Thunderer " is invested is due to the extreme 
discipline which is maintained in the office, and the 
mystery which its conductor insists upon in regard to 
the writers for its columns. No one about the office 
is allowed to give the address of any of the contribu- 
tors or regular writers ; an absurd rule, one would 
think, when the fact can be so readily obtained by 
other means. The circulation of The Times is not so 
large as that of several of the New York dailies, and 
it has at least three competitors in London who out- 
rank it in this respect. The Telegraph claims to have 
the largest circulation of any daily paper in the world ; 
The Star, I believe, comes next, and The Standard 
advertises itself as "the largest newspaper in the 
world." The price of The Times being three times 
as much as its competitors charge, and the difference 
in quality being after all more a tradition than any- 
thing else, it is not to be wondered at that the great 
Jove of the Press does not so completely eclipse its 
cotemporaries as it formerly did. The other three 
papers I have named advertise very extensively — they 
all have huge posters in the railway stations and 
wherever such announcements are allowed. In fact, 
they appear to have the greatest faith in the system 



To Europe and Back. 191 

by which they live (for I imagine that not only all 
their profits, but most of their working expenses, 
also, must be derived from advertising, so small is 
the sum for which they are sold), and they set very 
stimulating examples to their customers in this re- 
spect. The Star's great card is the "Readings by 
Starlight," a series of papers contributed by Mr. 
James Greenwood, author of the remarkable sketch 
"A Night in a Workhouse, by an Amateur Casual," 
which excited such an extraordinary sensation through- 
out England some months ago, a sensation that has 
not entirely subsided yet. The experience narrated, 
as you doubtless remember, was an actual one, the 
enterprising writer having disguised himself and se- 
cured admittance as a casual pauper. The horrible 
adventure was so graphically described that it pro- 
duced the effect of a faithful photograph. It brought 
the author money and fame, placing him at one step 
in the front rank of sketch-writers; but I doubt 
whether he would repeat the experiment for double 
the reward, though a host of imitators did spring up 
like mushrooms, filling the newspapers with " Nights" 
in all sorts of dreadful places. 

I could not leave London without paying a visit to 
Windsor, much as I was pressed for time, and there- 
fore gave up most of my last day to that excursion. 
I shall not be able, however, to give you much of an 
idea of what we saw; owing, first, to the hurried way 
in which we "did" the place, and, second, to the still 



192 Rough Notes of a Trip 

greater hurry in which I am at the present writing. 
The day was not a pleasant one, and we were obliged 
to limit ourselves to an inspection of the Castle and 
Chapel, and a very brief drive in the Park. Luckily, 
the appearance of the Castle is as familiar to most 
readers as to myself, and I can therefore spare you, 
and be spared myself, any attempt at description. 
But I must not fail to observe that the stately and 
venerable seat of British royality more than realized 
my expectations. There is something about it to in- 
spire the awe with which one contemplates a magnifi- 
cent Cathedral, as well as the admiration due to any 
noble specimen of architecture. William the Con- 
queror was the founder of the Castle, though it was 
nearly entirely rebuilt during the reign of Edward the 
Third, under the charge of the celebrated William 
of Wykeham, who was so proud of his work that he 
caused this inscription to be cut in stone on one of the 
towers: "Hoc fecit Wykeham." The words can be 
read to this day. Tradition has it that the King was 
exceeding wroth at the assumption of Wykeham, and 
was only appeased by the latter's explanation that the 
true reading of the inscription was, "the Tower made 
Wykeham," and not "Wykeham made the Tower," 
as the King had supposed. I hope the fraud was not 
recorded against the pious Bishop. For nearly eight 
centuries the Castle has been the principal residence 
of England's monarchs, and has grown into greater 
favor than ever with the latter sovereigns. Victoria 



To Europe and Back. 193 

makes it her usual winter residence. During her ab- 
sence admission is readily obtained to the Castle. 
We were conducted through the State Apartments, 
which did not strike us as being at all magnificent, 
compared with what we had seen in Palaces on the 
Continent, though in better taste than many of them, 
and not too splendid for service. If you would know 
more of what we saw in the Audience Chamber, which 
is hung with Gobelins tapestry; of the Presence 
Chamber, which is decorated in the Louis Quatorze 
style; of the Vandyke Room, so called because its 
walls are hung with twenty-two works by that mas- 
ter; of the Guard Chamber, where the walls are deco- 
rated with arms, and which contains many interesting 
relics connected with England's victories, the most 
notable of them being a part of the foremast of Nel- 
son's flag-ship, the Victory, with a colossal bust of the 
hero upon it; of St. George's Hall, containing por- 
traits of the latter British sovereigns; of the grand 
Waterloo Gallery, which is ornamented with the 
"counterfeit presentments" of the most eminent sol- 
diers and statesmen connected with that famous bat- 
tle ; of many other apartments which are freely opened 
to the public (though the polite attendant who con-, 
ducts you will not disaain the gratuity you slip into 
his hand in spite of the " commands of Her Majesty" 
to the contrary) ; if, I say, you would know more of 
these things than I have now told you, are not they 
written in a little Guide-Book which can be bought 
for a shilling ? 



194 Bough Notes of a Trip 

The business of the village is mainly derived from 
visitors to the Castle. The privilege of inspection is 
only granted when the Queen is absent ; but Her Ma- 
jesty resides so much at the Castle that there are not 
nearly as many visitors as formerly, and the citizens 
consequently complain of dull times, not forgetting to 
lay the blame upon the Queen, who is certainly not at 
all popular in Windsor. In fact, I fear that Victoria 
is fast becoming very obnoxious to all classes of her 
subjects. She is obstinate and ill-tempered, it is said, 
and I grieve to add that very ugly stories are freely 
told about her habits. I hope they are not true, but 
it certainly must strike every one who has seen her 
later photographic portraits that her face is an ex- 
ceedingly unamiable one. Many people profess to 
think that she will resign the Crown if she lives many 
years longer ; and there is but little doubt that pub- 
lic opinion will exert a powerful pressure toward that 
result, if the half of what bad things are told about 
her should come to be generally believed. 

But I am wandering from my text again, and that, 
too, when I have very little space left for such exer- 
cise. I must get back to London as quickly as possi- 
ble, for this letter will be my last about that city. 
Stop a few minutes first, though, to look through that 
noble example of Gothic architecture, St. George's 
Chapel, which is a part of Windsor Castle. The in- 
terior of the Chapel is surpassingly beautiful, the roof 
of the Choir, in particular, being a most remarkable 



To Europe and Back. 195 

piece of work. It was executed in 1508, by Sir Reg- 
inald Bray, at the expense of the Knights of the Gar- 
ter. The interior of the Choir is decorated with the 
richest wood carvings I have ever seen. Within, 
above the stalls, are suspended the banners, mantles, 
swords and helmets of all the Knights of the Garter, 
and therein the ceremony of installation takes place. 
The Choir window is a memorial to the late Prince 
Albert, and was executed at the expense of the Dean 
and Canons of Windsor. It is an admirable piece of 
work, having many sections representing in beauti- 
fully stained glass a number of scriptural subjects. 
The base of the window has fourteen small sections de- 
picting as many different scenes in the life of the Prince 
Consort. Annexed to it are the armorial bearings of 
the Prince, and a Latin inscription of which the fol- 
lowing is a translation : " To the Honor of God and 
to the Memory of the most regretted Prince, the Dean 
and Canons, deeply mourning, have dedicated this 
windowP 

St. George's Chapel contains a great number of in- 
teresting monuments, and the tombs of all the present 
dynasty and many of their ancestors. Few of the 
monuments possess any great merit as works of art. 
The best of all — and that, indeed, is a very beautiful 
work — is the cenotaph to the memory of Princess 
Charlotte, the lamented daughter of George the 
Fourth. It was executed by Wyatt, at a cost of one 
hundred and fifty thousand dollars, collected by vol- 



196 Rough Notes of a Trip 

untary contributions. The Princess, you know, was 
the idol and hope of the nation. Any description I 
could give would fail to convey an idea of the compo- 
sition, which is somewhat singular but very poetical 
and beautiful, and I will not therefore attempt it. 

As I approach the close of this letter I am conscious 
of how very little I have told you about London — or 
even about what I have seen of that metropolis of the 
world ; for, compared with what there is to see, I 
have seen almost nothing. I meant to do better, but 
could not possibly steal the time necessary to do jus- 
tice to my work. You must take the will for the 
deed. Do not think that what I have spoken of is a 
tithe of what I could speak, were I to only name the 
things I was most impressed with. And don't think, 
especially, because I have not hitherto mentioned it, 
that I failed to visit Westminster Abbey, though I 
must own that my stay there was necessarily so brief 
as to be hardly worth mentioning. That venerable 
sanctuary was the last place toward which I bent my 
steps before leaving London, and it was a satisfaction 
at least, if a poor one, to know that I did enter it, 
though that was almost all I could do. 

Just here I am reminded that in a former letter I 
spoke of being puzzled by the street cries of London. 
One especially, which I had heard every morning, 
I promised to discover the meaning of, and reveal 
the mystery to you. I attributed it to an old fellow 
who shuffled past my window regularly at a certain 



To Europe and Bach. 197 

hour with a bundle of papers under his arm. The cry, 
as near as I can render it, was "Stur-ur-ur!" After 
a good deal of speculation about the matter I came to 
the conclusion that the old man was a news boy — 
with copies of " The Star " for sale. Having settled 
the question satisfactorily, in my own mind, I was al- 
most indignant one morning when an old woman was 
pointed out to me as the true author of the cry. I 
knew better ! It must be the old man — and he was 
crying the " Star-ar-ar! " In my firm way (some- 
times ignorantly styled an obstinate way — but that's 
no matter), I demanded absolute proof before I could 
be convinced that I was mistaken. I was dared to go 
into the street next morning and investigate for my- 
self. I did go into the street, etc. And the result 
was — not as I had expected. I had to admit (but, 
then, you know, nobody is more ready to admit he is 
in the wrong than I am — when convinced of it ) that 
the cry was uttered by the old woman. But what 
do you suppose she had to sell ? You could never 
guess. Water-cresses ! 

I pondered a good deal over this matter of street- 
cries, trying to find a reason for their being so totally 
without meaning to a stranger, and at last arrived at 
this solution of the enigma: — the criers, I thought, 
must have regular beaten routes, and, consequently, 
almost as regular a set of customers ; so they have 
only to utter some regular cry — no matter what — 
and it will be recognized at once by the residents of 



198 Rough Notes of a Trip 

the neighborhood, who, of course, know what they 
have to sell and only want to be notified of the right 
time to go to the door. 

From London we came to Portsmouth (where I 
mail this letter), on the way to Ireland, intending to 
take the steamer at Queenstown, on the twentieth in- 
stant, for home. The two weeks intervening will be 
spent in hurried visits to the most interesting points 
we can stop at in England and Ireland in that brief 
period. I will try and write one more letter to you, 
just to make a round dozen of them. 

I was about to say " Good night," but find that 
"Good morning" would be more strictly correct. 
You see what hard work I make of it — this writing 
about a holiday summer's trip. Well, I have seen 
the folly of it, and I can promise that if I am ever 
lucky enough to have another such holiday, I will 
not spoil it by inditing long epistles to anybody. 
" Good morning." 



To Europe and Bach. 199 



XII 



THOUGHTS OF HOME. — PORTSMOUTH, ITS DOCKYARD AND THE 
IRON-CLADS THEREIN. — A TRIP TO THE ISLE OF WIGHT. 
— LEAMINGTON AND ITS VICINITY. — WARWICK CASTLE. — 
A PILGRIMAGE TO STRATFORD-ON-AVON. — SHAKSPEARE'S 
BIRTH-PLACE. — A GLIMPSE OF KENILWORTH CASTLE. — 
CHESTER. — EATON HALL. — LIVERPOOL. — ARRIVAL AT 
DUBLIN. 

Dublin, September 13th, 1866. 
Having determined that this shall be the last of my 
letters from Europe, I take up my pen (there's a nice 
old-fashioned expression for you ! ) with greater alac- 
rity than usual, and in the hope that not many days 
after you receive the letter, the writer will be with 
you in propria persona, as he has been in the spirit 
during the whole time of his absence. The thought 
of returning home again has all along been the plea- 
santest anticipation connected with my summer's 
holiday, a fact I have found it difficult to make some 
people believe, both in Europe and before I left 
America. But it is a fact, nevertheless, and I am 
sure you will not doubt it now that I repeat it here. 



200 Bough Notes of a Trip 

Home is home, after all, and there is no place like it, 
as the dear old song says ; but it is sometimes diffi- 
cult for a man to determine tohere his home is, a 
doubt which will never arise' in my mind again, now 
that I have tried a short absence from Buffalo. 

But I must not waste any space in disquisitions on 
a text foreign to my subject, and of no interest ex- 
cept to a very few of the nearest and dearest of my 
friends, with whom I cannot appropriately converse 
in the columns of a newspaper ; especially as I shall 
have more travel to note, and more sights to try and 
describe in this than in any of my previous letters. 

In my last I barely spoke of having arrived in 
Portsmouth ; now I will try and tell you something 
of what we saw and did in our three days' stay in 
that place. Portsmouth is chiefly renowned as being 
one of the greatest naval stations of England, and we 
naturally spent a good, deal of time in visiting its 
dockyard. Many of the finest Iron-clads in the Brit- 
ish navy are stationed there, and we were fortunate 
enough to have the company of a professional gentle- 
man, thoroughly competent to describe them, when 
we paid our visit. You have not failed to notice the 
tremendous outcry which John Bull is just now rais- 
ing about the mismanagement of his naval affairs, and 
I think that anybody who should see what we saw in 
Portsmouth would admit that the old gentleman is 
justified in his loud grumbling. Magnificent vessels, 
ruined by experiments to gratify the whims or pre- 



To Europe and Back. 201 

judices of Admiralty Lords innocent of the faintest 
practical knowledge of seamanship, lay in those docks 
" thick as leaves in Vallambrosia," expensive monu- 
ments of a nation's folly in permitting a system to 
exist so long after its total failure to meet the exigen- 
cies of the time has been over and over again demon- 
strated. The only consolation which practical Eng- 
lishmen appear to derive from this state of things is 
that other nations have profited by England's expen- 
ditures. They claim that the experiments have been 
in some degree necessary to develop the new system 
of naval warfare inaugurated by the Merrimac and 
Monitor in our rebellion. A very poor consolation 
this must be, I should think, considering that on her 
own supremacy on the seas depends England's po- 
sition among the great powers of the world. 

It must not be supposed from the above observa- 
tions that we saw no ships in Portsmouth fit to con- 
tend for the world's championship. England has 
succeeded in producing several of the finest Iron-clads 
afloat, the best specimen which we saw being the 
Minatour, and a very noble ship she is. Her dimen- 
sions are enormous, and it is hard to say in what re- 
spect she could be improved, unless the whole idea of 
her construction is wrong. She does not certainly 
stand nearly so high out of the water as the old-fash- 
ioned three-deckers, but yet she presents a much 
larger target to the enemies' guns than our own ships 
do. Properly speaking, she is not an iron-clad, hut 



202 Rough Notes of a Trip 

rather an iron ship wooden lined, her whole frame 
being of heavy iron plate backed by an enormous 
thickness of solid wood. If she succeeds in attaining 
the speed which is expected, she would surely prove 
an ugly customer, and there seems to be no doubt 
whatever as to her sea-going qualities. In reference 
to this ship the great complaint of the nation is that 
she is not ready for sea, the time having long passed 
when she ought to have been commissioned for active 
duty ; and this fault is not likely to be remedied in 
less than six months at the very least. In fact, the 
British Admiralty Board appears to make a point of 
not getting any vessel out until new improvements 
have demonstrated her utter unfitness for service 
without a total change in the original plan of con- 
struction. 

The dockyards of Portsmouth are very extensive, 
but the government intends to increase their capacity 
nearly double. The projected improvements were 
explained to us, but I cannot conscientiously aver 
that we understood them. Then we were shown 
through the Arsenal and Gun-wharves, where we took 
note of more big cannon and shot and shell than we 
ever saw before. Having seen thus much, there was 
little else to attract attention in Portsmouth, so we 
took one day out of the three we intended for that 
place for a trip over to the Isle of Wight — a trip 
that we did not regret, you may be sure. The weather 
was not propitious — quite the contrary, indeed, for it 



To Europe and Back. 203 

blew great guns, and rained hard and steady most of 
the day. I do not like to find fault, as you know, 
and have been specially inclined to be pleased with 
everything English, even to the weather ; but the last 
week's experience constrains me to admit that the cli- 
mate is a trifle moist — or, not to put too fine a point 
upon it, a little too " demnition wet," as Mr. Mantil- 
ini would observe. We braved the storm, however, 
on the day I speak of, and crossed over to Ryde in a 
little steamer, where we took a carriage and drove to 
Cowes, Osborne, Newport and Carisbrook, passing 
on the way more pretty places, and stopping to admire 
more beautiful scenery, than we had observed in any 
one day before. 

The Isle of Wight is one of the most charming bits 
of God's earth. I remembered well how fresh and 
green and inviting it looked that morning when I saw 
it three months before, after ten days of looking out 
upon the sea with no land in sight; and I had not for- 
gotten how reluctant I was to pass the lovely island 
without setting foot upon its shore. The villainous 
weather could not quite spoil the zest with which I 
enjoyed this day's excursion — a treat I had silently 
promised myself that morning. My only regret was 
that I could not now spare time to thoroughly explore 
the island, in spite of wind and weather. The little 
we did see was worth more than the trouble it cost. 
So it would have been, indeed, if we could only have 
seen Ryde, where we landed, which is a beautiful town 



204 Rough Notes of a Trip 

of nearly ten thousand inhabitants, and quite a fash- 
ionable summer resort, I imagine, from the number of 
pleasure yachts we saw anchored there. It is sur- 
rounded by pleasant groves and villas, lodges and 
cottages, even the most modest-looking of which have 
some distinguished title. Everybody's local habita- 
tion has a name in England, but I thought the rule 
extended to the Nobodies as well, in Ryde, for there 
is hardly a little eight-roomed house in the place but 
it is blessed with an aristocratic-sounding title. 

Some idea of the antiquity of Ryde may be gained 
if I mention that a church in the neighborhood is said 
to occupy the site upon which the first church in the 
island was erected nearly twelve centuries ago. The 
place, however, though so old a settlement has only 
recently began to grow. For hundreds of years it 
was a mere fishing village. But fashion has taken 
notice of it, and it is now a very thriving town. In 
the season I believe it is the rendezvous of the Royal 
Yacht Club. The pier is about half-a-mile long, built 
into the sea, and on it we took our first ride on an 
English tramway, one of those inventions of ours 
being laid from the steamer's landing place to the 
principal street of the town. 

What little we saw of Osborne House, the delight- 
ful summer residence of the Queen, made us wish to 
see more. It is a very noticeable object from the sea 
and looks all the more charming at first sight to the 
tourist who has just crossed the stormy Atlantic, be- 



To Europe and Back. 205 

cause he has been so longing for the sight of land. A 
more romantic spot could not be imagined. Many of 
Victoria's happiest hours have been spent there, for 
it was a favorite residence with Prince Albert, who 
took great pleasure in looking after his model farm 
on the estate. Our drive took us through East and 
West Cowes; showed us a little of Newport, the 
capital of the Island, and its most ancient town ; and 
of the picturesque village of Carisbrook with its 
ruined castle, the romantic aspect of which invited a 
closer inspection than time or weather would permit 
us to give. Nor did we fail to find some excitement 
in the stormy passage back to Portsmouth, feeling no 
little gratification in learning from an old salt that it 
was "very nasty weather indeed," — nasty enough 
certainly to make us glad to reach port again. 

From Portsmouth we took the rail to Leamington, 
a rather too long trip, and carrying us past many 
places where the tourist ought to linger. Winchester 
was one of these; but I was more reluctant still to 
pass renowned old Oxford, whose towers and spires 
were aggravatingly visible a long distance. Bat such 
was the haste in which our party was forced to travel, 
and so much more anxious were we to spend the time 
at Leamington, where we would be within a few miles 
of Stratford,. Kenil worth, Warwick Castle, and other 
famous places, to visit which we made the route es- 
pecially, that we hurried along regardless, in a meas- 
ure, of what else we should miss. The result satisfied 
10 



206 Rough Notes of a Trip 

us that we had made the best disposition of our time. 
I wish I could give this whole letter to a description 
of what we did in the way of sight-seeing the next 
day after we arrived at Leamington, which is noted 
in my diary as by far the most interesting day I have 
spent in Europe ; but how then could I speak of the 
rest of this last week's experience, seeing that I have 
resolved to write no more letters from this side of the 
Atlantic ? Brevity must be the chief characteristic 
of what I say about any place hereafter. 

Leamington itself is one of the prettiest places we 
have seen. It is a town of comparatively modern 
date, owing its sudden growth and present prosperity 
to its celebrated springs, which are regarded as of 
great efficiency in chronic disorders and diseases of 
the skin. Hence it has become one of the most fash- 
ionable Spas in the kingdom, and its pump-room and 
baths are claimed to be the most elegant in Europe. 
The houses are mostly new, and many of them are 
very handsome. The whole town looks more like a 
picture-place than a town in the very heart of busy 
smoky England, so bright and clean is everything 
about it. There is hardly a house without a beauti- 
ful garden attached to it, and there are numerous 
parks and pleasure grounds open to the public. 
The town is built upon both banks of the little river 
Learn, from which it derives its name. The streets 
are bordered with great trees, and there are many at- 
tractive walks about the place. In fact one could 



To Mi/rope and Book. 207 

hardly wander in any direction without finding him- 
self in a more beautiful country, as he would fancy, 
than he had ever seen before. 

This much we contrived to see of Leamington the 
first day. Next morning we started for Warwick 
Castle, the stately residence of the Earl of Warwick, 
occupying a most picturesque situation at the south- 
east of the town of Warwick, on a rock washed by 
the Avon. The approach to the Castle is by a wind- 
ing road cut through the solid rock, its walls covered 
with a heavy growth of ivy. The sombre stateliness 
of this pathway is rather oppressive for the moment, 
and the visitor is all the more delighted when a sud- 
den curve reveals to his sight the grand old Castle in 
its most imposing aspect. Our first business, how- 
ever, was with the interior. We were conducted 
through the magnificent rooms of the Castle, where 
we saw many treasures and curiosities of art which 
monarchs might be proud to possess. The Great Hall 
is considered the finest room of the kind in England. 
It is sixty-two feet long, forty in width, thirty-five in 
height, and leads to a suite of apartments which, 
when all open, with the Hall, form a vista of nearly 
three hundred and fifty feet. The Great Dining- 
Room, the Red Drawing-Room, the Cedar Drawing- 
Room, the Gilt Drawing-Room, the State Bed-Room 
in which Queen Elizabeth slept when on a visit to the 
Castle, Lady Warwick's Boudoir — these, and many 
other magnificent apartments, with their rich, rare, 



208 Rough Notes of a Trip 

curious and costly contents, were displayed for our in- 
spection. We took more pleasure, however, in stroll- 
ing through the grounds, free from the attendance of 
the verjuice-faced female who described the interior 
to us, the grandeur of which she too fully appreci- 
ated. She was a character, by the way, was this fe- 
male cicerone. She kept a sharper look-out for the 
fees than any other official we had yet encountered. 
Three or four little parties, making altogether about 
a dozen persons, including our party, went through 
the rooms together. There was one solitary gentle- 
man, also, who might have belonged to either of the 
parties, as he was quite sociable, though he was a 
stranger to all. It was amusing to see how closely 
our guide watched him. She evidently suspected 
from the beginning that he would try and slip out 
without paying the customary fee. And so he did, 
whilst the woman was counting the heads of our 
party when we handed her the money. But she ran 
out after him and very peremptorily reminded him 
that he had not paid, smiling a grim significant smile 
when he apologetically told her that he supposed it 
was proper to pay at the gate. 

In our wanderings about the lawns and grounds we 
came upon a green-house at some distance from the 
Castle, in which we saw the famous antique vase dis- 
covered in a lake near Adrian's villa at Tivoli, about 
twelve miles from Rome. It is known as the War- 
wick Vase, having been purchased by the late Earl 



To Europe and Back. 209 

from Sir William Hamilton. It is supposed to be 
more than two thousand years old, and holds about 
one hundred and sixty-five gallons — a wine-cup of co- 
lossal dimensions. Quite as curious, and much more 
interesting to me, were the porridge pot and meat 
fork of the renowned Guy of Warwick, which are 
kept in the Porter's Lodge, with his armour and other 
accoutrements. The legend of this stalwart but un- 
fortunate Crusader is too remote to excite much 
enthusiasm in the present practical generation, but 
we did not find it difficult to get up a good deal of 
romance when the armour of the mighty King-maker, 
Richard Neville, the Last of the Barons, was shown 
to us. We could, apparently, go back to his times 
without too great a stretch of the imagination. 

What picturesque views of the stately Castle we 
obtained as we strolled about the pleasure grounds ! 
How venerable and yet how strong it looked ! We 
found the dry facts of the Hand-Books as interesting 
as a romance and as refreshing to the imagination, 
whilst we contemplated the majestic structure. War- 
wick Castle is said to have been founded in 915, by 
Ethelfleda, the daughter of Alfred the Great ; but 
it is not claimed that any of the original edifice re- 
mains, though one of the towers dates from the time 
of the Conquest. It is, perhaps, the finest specimen 
of the grand old houses erected by the haughty barons 
of England, now in existence. Sir Walter Scott 
speaks of it as the "fairest monument of ancient and 



210 Rough Notes of a Trip 

chivalrous splendor which remains uninjured by time." 
Unlike most other structures of the character, it is 
inhabited by its owner, and appears to be really as 
comfortable a place to live in, as it is picturesque in 
situation and venerable in historic associations. You 
will not need, I am sure, to be reminded of the mighty 
men of old, whose stronghold this Castle was, but I 
am equally sure that you would be interested in the 
relics of the old Barons which are preserved, carrying 
one back, as it were, to the times when they lived 
and moved and had their being. 

From Warwick we made a pilgrimage to Stratford- 
on-Avon, driving about eight miles, most of the way 
in sight of the willow-margined river. I know not 
whether these trees were planted by nature or by the 
hand of man, but the effect is very striking. For 
miles beautiful weeping willows border the stream on 
either side, suggesting the thought that the Avon is 
in perpetual mourning for the loss of her immortal 
Bard. You will anticipate that we stopped first at 
the birth-place of Shakspeare, but will not need a de- 
scription of the singular-looking old house, having it, 
I doubt not, familiar to your mind's eye. Over the 
window is a board, like a little sign, bearing this in- 
scription : 

"the immortal shakspeare was born in this house." 

Much of the exterior has been restored, but the in- 
ner rooms, especially the two chambers (in one of 






To Europe and Bach. 211 

which the poet was born), remain as they were ori- 
ginally. The walls are completely covered by the 
names of visitors — crossed and recrossed like a 
woman's letter — not an inch of bare space within 
reach. A register is now kept wherein pilgrims can 
inscribe their names. I found the signatures of many 
Americans — nearly a third of all the names I should 
think — in the latter pages. One gentleman, only the 
day previous, had registered himself as a citizen of 
Norfolk, Virginia, and added the initials C. S. A., in 
the largest Roman characters. He was a Reverend, 
also, but evidently did not acquiesce in the "logic 
of events," and was no believer in the doctrine that 
" whatever is is right." 

A short distance from the house wherein Shaks- 
peare was born, stands the church wherein he was 
buried. It is a note-worthy old building, apart from 
its association with the poet's memory, some portions 
of it dating from the eleventh century. There are 
lany interesting monuments and tombs in the inte- 
rior besides the celebrated bust of Shakspeare, which 
is still regarded, you know, as his most trust-worthy 
likeness. I carefully stepped over the stone beneath 
which his ashes repose. It bears this inscription : 

" GOOD FRIEND, FOR JESVS SAKE FORBEARE, 
TO DIG THE DVST ENCLOASED HEARE ; 
BLESTE BE YE MAN YT. SPARES THES STONES, 
AND CVRST BE HE YT. MOVES MY BONES." 

These lines are said to have been written by Shak- 



212 Bough Notes of a Trip 

speare himself. Do you believe it ? They sound to 
me more like the work of the stone-cutter. The most 
practical and matter-of-fact of men must be moved to 
eloquent thoughts, I believe, when they reverently 
stand in presence of the mighty shade of Shakspeare 
— for at his grave one may be said to feel his pres- 
ence, so impressive are the associations which crowd 
upon the spectator. If I give no utterance to my 
own reflections let it be placed to my credit that I 
refrained under strong temptation, because the sober 
second thought told me that silence would be more 
becoming in so humble an admirer of him who " was 
not for a day, but for all time." 

Stratford-on-Avon is one of England's oldest towns, 
so old that its precise age cannot be given. As 
far back as the middle of the eighth century it had 
a monastery. How many years have passed since 
the place had grown to its present size ! Many of 
the buildings are exceedingly old, and some of them 
are remarkable specimens of the domestic architec- 
ture of olden times. We took dinner at the "Red 
Horse," a cozy little inn which appeals to our coun- 
trymen for patronage, being " known to Americans 
as Washington Irving's Hotel," according to the 
landlord's card. We were served in the room which 
bears the gentle writer's name, and this present writer 
sat for the space of an hour in an arm chair before he 
saw, by an inscription on a brass plate in the top 
ledge, that it was " Washington Irving's chair." 



To Europe and Back. 213 

Don't be shocked when he tells you that he did not 
experience any unusual sensation while seated therein. 

On our return from Stratford we passed through 
Charlecote (pronounced Chawcut by the natives), a 
place noted for its associations with an incident in 
Shakspeare's life. You know the old story : how the 
youthful genius was caught killing a deer in Charle- 
cote Park, and was brought before Sir Thomas Lucy, 
an ancestor of the present proprietor, and severely 
punished. I have always supposed this to be an apoc- 
ryphal story, but the villagers stick to it, and still 
show a hill where the young scapegrace was caught 
by the keepers. The park is the seat of S. Lucy, Es- 
quire. It is very extensive, finely wooded, and is 
plentifully stocked with deer. The mansion is spa- 
cious and handsome. It was erected in Elizabeth's 
time, by the prosecutor of young Shakspeare. 

There was still a little daylight left when we re- 
turned to Leamington, so we concluded to visit Ken- 
il worth before finishing the day, though that place 
was nearly five miles distant. It was a pleasant drive 
there, and we explored those interesting ruins in the 
dim twilight, and peopled it again in imagination with 
the characters still living in Scott's wonderful ro- 
mance. Twilight became moonlight before we tore 
ourselves away from the spot. I had seen so many 
pictures of Kenilworth Castle, and read so many de- 
scriptions of it, that all appeared as familiar to me as 
though I had visited the ruins often before — a fact 
10* 



214 Rough Notes of a Trip 

which would warn me not to attempt to bring the 
scene before my readers, even if I had the room to 
spare. It is not a place to be " written up" in a few 
hurried lines. I find unspeakable satisfaction in the 
thought that I have visited Kenil worth — a satisfaction 
which shall not be marred by the reflection that I 
tried to describe those romantic ruins - — that lovely 
scenery - — and failed. All readers will be glad to 
know that efforts are being made to preserve the ruins 
in their present picturesque condition. I saw a prop 
attached to one of the walls which would otherwise 
be in danger of falling. Nearly all parts of the Cas- 
tle are covered with a most luxuriant growth of ivy, 
some of the trunks being as large around as a man 
could span with his arms. 

It was quite late when we reached our hotel at 
Leamington. Just look back and remark what we 
had done in one day, and tell me if it was not a good 
hard day's work though it was only sight-seeing ? I 
know very well that we ought to have spent a week 
instead of a day in exploring these places — but what 
is one to do when his time is as limited as mine ? 

We had not much help from our Jehu that day. 
He was not very communicative — rather a misan- 
thropic old chap, in fact. Usually we had found that 
our drivers were quite knowing characters — but this 
one was an exception to the rule. I tried hard to 
draw him out, but it was as difficult to get any infor- 
mation from him as to unearth a badger. He never 



To Europe and Back, 215 

said "Yes" or "No" to anything, nor yet that he 
didn't know. "I dessay, Sir," was his usual reply. 
Once only did he volunteer a remark, and that was at 
the beginning of our drive. Pointing to the river, he 
said "that's the Haven, Sir." "What haven?" I 
asked, quite innocently. "The river Haven, Sir," he 
replied. And then it occurred to me that " Haven " 
was Warwickshire for Avon. Perhaps the old fellow 
thought I was quizzing him in not understanding his 
meaning at the first moment, and for this reason was 
so reticent the rest of the day ; but he was deluded if 
he did, for there was no touch of mockery in my 
thoughts. 

There are many other interesting places in the vi- 
cinity of Leamington to which we should have paid 
visits if time had permitted. You will notice that I 
have told you nothing about Guy's Cliffe or Stone- 
leigh Abbey, places which every tourist who stops at 
Leamington expects to visit. Sad to say, my haste 
was too urgent to admit of any further rambles in that 
delightful locality, and therefore you must try and be 
content with what I have told you. 

After leaving Leamington the first place at which 
we stopped was Chester, which claims to be the oldest 
city in England, some (Chester people, of course) go- 
ing so far as to say that it was a city before the Ro- 
man conquest. The place has certainly a very old 
look. Many of the houses are singularly constructed, 
having porticoes running along the front the whole 



216 Rough Notes of a Trip 

length of a street, affording a covered walk to pedes- 
trians. Shops and warehouses are beneath, on a level 
with the street. I noticed a somewhat similar feature 
in the buildings at Berne, in Switzerland. Chester 
Castle is supj>osed to have been erected in the time 
of William the Conqueror. Only a portion of the 
original building remains, and that has been lately re- 
paired. The Cathedral is the oldest-looking church I 
have seen in Europe, and one of the most interesting. 
It is blackened with age. We were shown some por- 
tions which were supposed to be of the fifth century 
— but not warranted; other parts, quite authentic, of 
the eleventh century. We were conducted through 
it by an amusing old gentlemen, one of the most 
original characters we have encountered. His de- 
scription of the Cathedral was interspersed with the 
quaintest observations, more remarkable for oddity 
than piety. " The old lady is very bad to-day, Sir," 
he whispered to me. I turned to the two ladies in 
the party, thinking at first he alluded to one of them; 
but it was plain that neither could fairly be called 
old or bad-looking. "What old lady? " I demanded. 
"The poor old lady up there," replied he, pointing to 
a grotesque figure of an old woman carved on one of 
the beams, with hands clasped before her, face dis- 
torted, and form doubled up, as though she was suf- 
fering from a dreadful stomach-ache. 

The Cathedral is built of the red sandstone found 
in the vicinity — a soft stone which appears to wash 



To Europe and Bach. 217 

away, but holds the mortar well. The sharp edges of 
all the stones have been rounded off by the elements, 
giving the building a very singular appearance. An- 
other church (St. John's) is built of similar material, 
but looks even more venerable than the Cathedral. It 
was founded, according to local history, by Ethelred, 
in the seventh century. The most ancient portion of 
this church is a mass of ivy-grown ruins. Some idea 
of how long they have been ruins may be gathered 
from a, very curious circumstance which is sure to at- 
tract the attention of visitors. A large elm tree stands 
directly under one of the arches, branching off at the 
top and reaching a great height above the wall, look- 
ing as if the arch was built over the fork of the tree. 
How long the arch had stood before the tree began to 
grow, cannot be known, though I dare say it would 
not be difficult to determine the present age of the 
tree. The interior of St. John's has lately been re- 
stored, and proves to be of a later date than the ruins. 
It is considered one of the finest specimens of the 
early Norman style of architecture extant. There are 
many old buildings in Chester, as curious and inter- 
esting to the antiquarian, perhaps, as the two churches 
I have mentioned ; but these are the most noted ob- 
jects with ordinary travelers, and should not be over- 
looked. 

We did not leave Chester until we had visited the 
Park and grounds of Eaton Hall, a superb mansion, 
built in florid Gothic style, and belonging to the Mar- 



218 Rough Notes of a Trip 

quis of Westminster. It is beautifully situated on the 
banks of the Dee, between three and four miles from 
Chester, and is said to be a favorite residence with its 
owner. Well it may be, for a more delightful place 
could hardly be imagined. The hall is furnished with 
great splendor. The private chapel is considered one 
of the prettiest in England. Driving through the 
Park gave us something of an idea of the magnitude 
of the estate. It extends more than eight miles in one 
direction; a nice little homestead certainly, with which 
a man might be almost content, one would fancy, if 
that beatific state is ever to be attained in this vain 
world. But this is only a tithe of the landed property 
belonging to the Marquis ; and he has many mansions 
besides Eaton Hall, with the largest income, too, it 
is said, of any gentleman in England. Poor man, 
what a burden it all must be to him ! Who would 
not be willing to relieve him of a part of it ? 

Our next stopping place was Liverpool, but the 
weather was so abominable on the way there and 
during our stay, that we were not inclined to see 
much of that place. We could not help noting, how- 
ever, that it is an extremely busy city, more like New 
York than any other place we have seen. The great 
docks of Liverpool are the chief boast of her citizens. 
We plodded our way about them in the driving rain, 
and found them well worth a visit. We saw one 
great vessel, an East-Indiaman, being unladen of rice, 
and could not help admiring (in the reverse sense of 



To Europe and Back. 219 

the term ) the slow old-fashioned method in which the 
grain was handled. I wish some of our great Eleva- 
tors were at work in Liverpool, just to show her peo- 
ple how we do business out in the western world ; but 
if you keep burning them down, I fear we shall have 
none to spare.* I must say a good word for the 
Adelphi Hotel, because we found it one of the best, 
the most comfortable and home-like, of all the hotels 
we have tried in Europe. So many Americans stop 
at Liverpool, on their arrival in and departure from 
England, that this fact would be worth printing even 
if a suspicion of puffery should attach to the mention 
of it — a suspicion that would be entirely groundless, 
I need not assure you. 

From Liverpool we went per rail to Holyhead, 
getting a peep at some of the most beautiful scenery 
of the northern coast of Wales, through which we 
passed on the way, and riding across the great Tubu- 
lar Bridge over the mouth of the river Conway, and 
the still greater one across the Menai Strait. The lat- 
ter bridge is considered one of the most stupendous 
achievements of engineering science, and I regarded 
it as a piece of good fortune to travel through it and 
get a fair view of the situation. At Holyhead we 
took a fine steamer for Kingstown, doing the sixty- 
four miles across the Irish Channel in less than four 



*In the space of less than four years previous to the date of this letter, 
eleven groat Elevators were burned down in Buffalo, involving a loss of 
nearly two millions of dollars. 



220 Rough Notes of a Trip 

hours, notwithstanding that the sea was rough, and 
there was a head wind. I had never before realized 
how wide a gulf there is between the Emerald Isle 
and England, though I knew that Irishmen wished it 
was wider still. You will think it strange, perhaps, 
that I mused much over the thought of Ireland being 
twice as far from England as England is from France, 
while I was watching for the first glimpse of the 
shore. I ought to have been tolerably familiar with 
this geographical fact before, and I dare say, when it 
comes to the point, I did know that much, only from 
habit had forgotten it. It may be that I was con- 
scious, in that uncomfortable interval, of certain rather 
uncharitable views I had long entertained with regard 
to a class of Irish agitators in America. At any rate 
those sixty-four miles of rough sea voyaging inspired 
me with more sympathy for the object at which the 
Fenians aim than I had ever felt before. Set that 
down as a candid admission, and give me credit for 
it. But not too much credit though, for it may have 
been nothing but a stomach repentance, after all. I 
believe it is Mr. Beecher who speaks of people often 
fancying they have got religion when they are only 
bilious. Perhaps it was something similar that ailed 
me when I was enjoying the new-born feeling of sym- 
pathy with the hopeless scheme of the Fenians. Cer- 
tainly if there be any bile in a man it is likely to get 
agitated in crossing the Channel. 

We did not tarry at Kingstown, though there is 



To Europe and Back. 221 

much about the place to invite the traveler to halt 
awhile, to say nothing about the disinclination he 
must feel to continue his journey after a stormy pas- 
sage across the Channel. The town is a very pretty 
one, and there is nice sea-bathing there, facts which 
have made it quite a fashionable summer resort of late 
years. We, however, proceeded straight to Dublin, 
less than an hour's ride. And here we are, in the 
capital of Ireland, expecting to spend the last week 
before sailing in convenient little excursions about 
the green isle. Two days in Dublin, one or two in 
County Wicklow — a region that embraces much of 
Ireland's most beautiful scenery, — the other three or 
four at the Lakes of Killarney and in Cork (from 
whence we sail next Thursday) will probably make 
up a week of the busiest and most enjoyable travel- 
ing and sight-seeing in our experience. If I tell you 
anything of all this, though, it must be in a letter 
written after I reach home. Meantime, I hopefully 
and thankfully say " Good-bye." 



222 Rough Notes of a Trip 



XIII. 

DUBLIN AND SOME OF ITS SIGHTS. — AN EXCURSION TO COUN- 
TY WICKLOW IN A JAUNTING-CAR, WITH A " TOO HANDY " 
DRIVER, AND WHAT CAME OF IT. — THE LAKES OF KIL- 
LARNEY. -— THE GAP OF DUNLOE. — KATE KEARNEY AND 
HER DESCENDANTS. — SCENERY ABOUT THE LAKES. — IN- 
NISFALLEN ISLAND. — CORK. — BLARNEY CASTLE AND THE 
BLARNEY STONE. — START FOR THE SHIP. — OMINOUS 
WORDS. 

Buffalo, October 11th, 1866. 
To write a letter to you, dear Commercial, now 
that I am at home, makes me feel like old Solomon in 
the play, who had correspondence from all parts of 
the world — written by himself; but, having made a 
sort of half promise in my last to complete the re- 
cord of my experience in Europe, and finding that 
some of my readers are disposed to remind me of that 
circumstance, kindly expressing an interest in the 
matter, I will try and keep my word, and even go a 
little further, and bring my account down to our ar- 
rival in New York, at the risk of doing a work of 
supererogation. 



To Europe and Back. 223 

I find that I told you nothing of Dublin, except 
that our party had arrived there. We spent only 
two days in the Irish capital, and I cannot, therefore, 
pretend to tell you much about it, except as to gen- 
eral impressions. It is a handsome city, with many 
stately buildings and fine wide streets, but a very 
dull place, I should think, so far as business goes. It 
was almost painful for active-minded Americans to 
see how deserted the streets looked. One street in 
particular, and that one of the finest ( Sackville 
street), shows much less traffic than is seen on our 
Main street, though it is about three times as broad, 
and Dublin has nearly thrice as many inhabitants as 
Buffalo. I know not why it was, but our whole party 
certainly were victims to the blues all the while we 
were tjiere, a circumstance whicji may have given a 
sombre coloring to our impressions of Dublin ; or else 
the knowledge that the ancient city is actually in a 
rapid decline — its population steadily decreasing * 
and its business " going to the dogs " — made us view 
the place with the sort of melancholy interest with 
which one always contemplates the hectic fading 
beauty of a consumptive woman. We found this im- 
pression could not be eradicated, even when we took 

* What is true of Dublin, in this respect, appears to be true of the 
whole island. The Registrar-General's half-yearly Report on Births, 
Deaths and Marriages in Ireland, shows that in the quarter ending the 
30th of June last the number of births was 38,816 ; of deaths 24,763, and 
of emigrants 41,124 ; the result of which is a diminution of the population 
of Ireland by 27,071 in the three months. 



224 Rough Notes of a Trip 

our first ride on a jaunting-car, though the novelty of 
the situation and the constant care required to hold 
our seats, would have kept us merry as well as busy 
in any other place. You know what a jaunting-car 
is, I suppose — a sort of little omnibus turned inside 
out and minus the roof — an abominable invention, 
exactly the reverse of what it ought to be. A narrow 
seat is suspended over each wheel and there is a nar- 
rower board to rest the feet upon. You feel certain 
you will pitch off unless you hang on for dear life, or 
are hardened to the performance. We sat, two on 
one side, back to back with two on the other side, in 
a very unsocial fashion. A fifth (but only a little 
one) was perched on the space between, with his 
back to the driver, who has the only tolerably com- 
fortable seat. Perhaps I am rather more prejudiced 
against them now than I was at my first experience, 
for it was only a day or two later that a nearly seri- 
ous accident happened to some of our party, includ- 
ing myself, arising out of the carelessness of a wild 
Irish driver of one of these vehicles. But more of 
this by-and-bye, in its proper place. 

Our first drive in Dublin was to the Phoenix Park, 
a splendid and almost too large inclosure, containing 
nearly eighteen hundred acres, and affording many 
fine but rather lonesome drives, so few people are to 
be met on the way. The Park is finely wooded, and 
plentifully stocked with deer as tame as sheep ; but 
it struck me that less extensive grounds would be 



To Europe and Bach. 225 

more enjoyable as a public park for so small a city as 
Dublin. The most conspicuous abject in the Park is 
the Wellington Testimonial, an immense quadrangu- 
lar truncated obelisk, erected by his fellow-townsmen 
of Dublin in 1817, to commemorate the victories of 
the Great Duke, at a cost of over one hundred thou- 
sand dollars. The work was done entirely by Irish 
artisans, and a very handsome piece of work it is. On 
our way to this spot we had passed an enclosure with- 
in which were rows of cannon pointed toward the 
city, which they commanded; an unpleasant reminder 
that the authorities did not feel " quite at home " in 
the Irish capital. The palace occupied by the Vice- 
roy is not far from the entrance to the Park. It is 
not an imposing building, by any means — indeed, I 
think it would be regarded as rather shabby were it 
in the neighborhood of Madison Square, New York. 
Soon tiring of the Park, we turned back and drove 
about the city, taking hasty glances at many fine pub- 
lic buildings, of which Dublin has more in proportion 
to its size than any other city we have visited. We had 
no time to examine the interiors, and you will there- 
fore be spared any further particulars, except in re- 
spect to St. Patrick's Cathedral, which we did enter, 
and pretty thoroughly explore, having curiosity to 
see the church upon the restoration of which one 
wealthy man (Mr. Guinness, the great brewer,) had 
spent more than half a million of dollars. One cannot, 
of course, very well judge of the magnitude of the re- 



226 Rough Notes of a Trip 

pairs unless he has seen the Cathedral in its former 
state ; but all can now attest that it is a most noble 
and beautiful church, in perfect condition, yet retain- 
ing much of the venerable appearance bestowed upon 
it by the passing ages. 

It is as well attested as any fact can be which has 
come down to us from those remote times, that St. 
Patrick erected a place of worship, which existed for 
some centuries, on the site of the present Cathedral; 
for it is on record that Gregory of Scotland and his 
followers attended worship in it, in the year 890, more 
than four hundred years after St. Patrick's time. A 
well was near the spot, in which the patron saint bap- 
tized his converts. The present Cathedral was begun 
in the twelfth century by Archbishop Comyn, and we 
were shown parts of it which remain to this day un- 
altered and almost untouched by time. A small por- 
tion is pointed out as the remains of the original 
church erected by St. Patrick, but the fact is not in- 
sisted upon. The interior is very beautiful, and it is 
decorated with many exceedingly interesting monu- 
ments. The unpretending slabs which denote the 
places where Dean Swift and his "Stella" rest, "after 
life's fitful fever," peacefully, side by side, will surely 
attract the attention of the visitor. 

What a singular compound was Swift ! One hardly 
knows whether to admire or despise him, most. The 
janitor who conducted us told some stories about him 
which I had never heard before, though I dare say 



To Europe and Back. 227 

they are familiar enough to most readers. Did you 
ever hear how he got his appointment as Dean of St. 
Patrick's ? There was a certain lady, a great admirer 
of Swift's, who possessed much family influence at 
Court. " Get me made Dean," said Swift to this lady, 
" and I'll marry you whenever you are ready." The 
lady exerted herself, and Swift was appointed. He 
did not appear to be in any hurry to keep his word, 
and she therefore waited upon him and demanded a 
fulfillment of the bargain. "Certainly," said the 
Dean, "What day is it to take place?" An early 
day was named and the Dean promised to be at the 
Church. The lady was prompt, and the Dean was 
present. "Where is the bridegroom?" asked he of 
the lady. "Yourself, surely," she replied. " Did you 
not promise to marry me?" " Yes," responded the 
Dean, "and so I will, now or any time, for nothing — 
but J didn't promise to find the husband! " Our con- 
ductor laughed as long and loud when he finished the 
story as though he never had told about the heartless 
cheat before. 

Near the resting place of Swift is a very singular 
monument, attracting attention by its cumbersome 
oddity. It is a large group erected to Boyle, Earl of 
Cork, in 1639, of black marble and wood-carving, 
gilded and painted, representing the Earl and his wife 
in reclining positions surrounded by their sixteen 
children. What a pleasant little family ! There was 
much more to interest us in St. Patrick's, but a great 



228 Rough Notes of a Trip 

deal has escaped my memory. It belongs to the Re- 
formed religion now, but, as our driver told us when 
we came out, "the Fanian boys say the Catholics 
shall have it again." He was a character, by the way, 
that driver of ours. Intelligent and witty, with a 
splendid, rich, but not vulgar brogue, very much like 
Collins, the Irish Comedian. He was inclined to be 
non-committal as to his politics, but we soon dis- 
covered that his sympathies were with the " Fanian 
boys." Such, indeed, so far as we could observe, was 
the case with nearly every man of his class we en- 
countered in Ireland. 

We went to another Cathedral, " Christ's Church," 
the vaults of which, according to the "Black Book 
of Christ's Church," were constructed by the Danes 
long before St. Patrick visited the Island. It is 
claimed that he afterward celebrated mass in one ot 
them. The present church, however, is described as 
" of comparatively modern date," being only eight 
or nine hundred years old ! I wonder what age a 
church must have to be styled ancient, according to 
this. From Christ's Church to the Cemetery was not 
a long drive, but the latter proved to be so beautiful 
a place that we should have felt repaid had the dis- 
tance been much greater. Our driver had only asked 
if we would like to see O'Connell's tomb, and we 
were not prepared, therefore, to find much else that 
was interesting. The grounds, which are quite exten- 
sive, are so tastefully laid out and so well preserved, 



To Europe and Back. 229 

there are so many flowers and hedges and trees, and 
the walks are so prettily bordered, that the spot 
makes as cheerful a burial place as one could desire. 
We found that nearly all the visitors registered their 
impressions of the place, and they were unanimous 
upon this point. Few of the graves but had some 
token of love, in the shape of baskets of flowers or 
wreaths, left there by friends or relatives of the de- 
ceased. O'Connell's monument is a very conspicuous 
object, but not a beautiful one, nor hardly an appro- 
priate one it seems to me, though there may be some 
.significance, beyond my appreciation, in its resem- 
blance to the peculiar ancient round towers which are 
so numerous in most parts of Ireland. It is built of 
granite, is upwards of one hundred and sixty feet in 
height, and surmounted by a cross eight feet high 
weighing about two tons. There is a vault beneath 
the tower, intended as a receptacle for the great 
Agitator's ashes, which at present repose in another 
part of the grounds surrounded by a deep ditch. A 
more interesting tomb to me was that of the great 
orator, Curran. It is built of Irish granite, and is a 
fac-simile of the celebrated monument of Scipio Bar- 
batiens. 

From Dublin we made an excursion to County 
Wicklow, proceeding by rail to Bray (about twelve 
miles), a very pretty watering place w T hich has lately 
grown into great repute, and where tourists with 
plenty of time make their headquarters for several 
11 



230 Bough Notes of a Trip 

■ 
days, for the reason that many pleasant excursions 

can be made from it. We could give only one day to 
it, however, and had therefore taken an early start. 
Arrived at Bray, we were soon provided with a car, 
though not without a great deal of bother from rival 
drivers, who bantered us and blackguarded one an- 
other with amusing volubility. One fellow followed 
us even after we had selected our car. " Faith, it's 
sorry for ye I am," he said, as we were about to start. 
" Ye'll never get back alive," he added;." that black- 
guard is always killin' somebody with his carelessness, 
he is." I was surprised that our driver did not return 
abuse for abuse; but concluded that what he lacked 
in ready wit he made up in steadiness, which was by 
far the most desirable quality. The route we pro- 
posed was said to be thirty miles in length. " Can 
your horse do it by five o'clock?" I asked the driver. 
"Too handy, y'r han'r," was the reply, and off we 
started. 

We were bound first for "The Dargle," a glen about 
a mile in length, through which the river Dargle flows. 
We explored this glen on foot, obtaining many charm- 
ing views on the way. The ravine is beautifully 
wooded, the rocky banks of the river rising in some 
places as high as three hundred feet, thickly covered 
with native wild wood and graceful ferns. Seen from 
above, the glen is a lovely combination of rugged 
rock and many-tinted foliage, the sparkling stream 
plashing and dashing its way along at the bottom. 



To Europe and Back. 231 

There is one bold projecting point, called the "Lov- 
er's Leap," from which the best view is obtained. Of 
course there is a story connected with this spot, which 
gives it the name — but not a very probable one, 
equally of course. From the Dargle we drove to 
Enniskerry, a remarkably pretty village, the property 
of Lord Powerscourt, situated in a deep valley, wa- 
tered by a small stream, and a favorite place of resort 
with Dublin people. Thence about three miles, at a 
rattling pace, to Powerscourt, driving through the 
beautiful demesne, nearly eight hundred acres of which 
are enclosed. The whole estate contains twenty-six 
thousand acres. The family is said to be one of the 
most popular in Ireland. Much account is made of 
the Waterfall, whither we wended, but I think Ameri- 
cans are apt to be disappointed in Waterfalls, as we 
have the largest and most imposing, both natural and 
artificial, in the world. Niagara is not more supreme 
in this respect than are the other kind we have so 
many of to show. We saw the Powerscourt Water- 
fall in its most favorable aspect, a great deal of rain 
having recently fallen, (as we knew to our sorrow) — 
but yet, though pretty, there was not much of it. In 
dry weather it must be a trifling affair. George the 
Fourth once made a visit to Powerscourt, and in order 
to make sure of a good supply of water a large tank 
was built at the top of the hill, but his fat majesty 
did not take the trouble to go to the spot after all. 
Just as we had seen all we desired in the neighbor- 






232 Rough Notes of a Trip 

hood of the Waterfall it began to rain, and it was 
time, therefore, to think of returning to Bray. We 
took another route back, passing through the Rocky 
Valley, a very strange passage of about a mile in 
length, enclosed by high mountains, with huge wierd- 
looking rocks scattered in every direction. Shortly 
after, we stopped at a little road-side inn, the name of 
which I forget, but it is quite celebrated in the neigh- 
borhood, humble as it looked. Unpromising as was 
its exterior, we found a tolerably clean little back 
room, and were soon served with a capital lunch of the 
best brown bread we ever tasted — a luxury for which 
the landlady is famous — with sweet, golden-hued but- 
ter, Cheshire cheese and water-cresses. Bottled ale of 
the best was not wanting, and something stronger 
and hotter was prescribed, and taken too, "to keep 
out the cold rain." When we left, hearty cheers and 
best wishes were given to "the Americans," and our 
driver was exhorted to do his best for us. 

Was there any significance in that hint, I wonder ? 
At any rate it seemed to spur our "too handy" Jehu 
to unwonted exertions. He was evidently bent upon 
showing " the Americans " a taste of what an Irish 
horse could do, and drove us along at a break-neck 
pace, regardless of consequences. Having to hold up 
umbrellas it was all we could do to hang on the seat 
by the skin of our — teeth, I was about to say, but 
that seems to be a rather far-fetched simile — when 
we were going over level ground ; but when the fel- 



To Europe and Back. 233 

low drove full tilt down a steep hill, and turned a 
sharp corner at the bottom without slacking speed, 
you will not be surprised to hear that we who were 
on the side which caught the full momentum of the 
swing, were flung violently from the car, alighting, 
providentially, in the softest and dirtiest mud to be 
found in Ireland. The situation was too serious to be 
ludicrous. When I scrambled up there were two oth- 
ers to look after, who, I feared, had sustained severe 
injuries. Fortunately no bones were broken, though 
all were in a sorry plight. It was a mystery how so 
much mud could be gathered on one person. A cot- 
tage hard by afforded us the opportunity to wash and 
scrape and clean up a little. The driver was so 
frightened, and so penitent, and we were so thankful 
at our escape without broken bones, that we did not 
punish the fellow as I still strongly suspect he de- 
served. I found it hard to exercise that spirit of for- 
giveness to which I was exhorted by the friend who, 
having sat on the other side of the car, didn't get up- 
set. He was sure the reckless fellow was actuated by 
the best of motives — merely wanted to surprise us — 
which he certainly succeeded in doing. I questioned 
very much, though, whether my friend would have 
been so charitable in his construction of the driver's 
conduct if he had sat on my side of the car. How- 
ever, as I said, we let it go, and drove back to Bray 
as quickly as possible, consistent with safety. We 
paid for the nice little dinner we had ordered at the 



234: Bough Notes of a Trip 

hotel but did not wait to eat it, preferring to take the 
first train back to Dublin, quite satisfied .that we had 
had enough of Ireland for one day. I don't remem- 
ber seeing either of the party on a jaunting car after 
that incident. 

The following day we took the rail for Killarney, a 
long and tedious journey only enlivened here and 
there with glimpses of beautiful scenery. The town 
has one long street, with a lot of dirty offshoots, and 
is about as dingy and ugly a place as can be imagined. 
The lakes are a mile or two from the town, and the 
hotels are located upon their banks — good hotels, 
too, where the traveler soon finds himself at home. 
We stopped at the " Victoria," and did not regret it, 
though I believe the " Lake House " and one or two 
others are considered equally good. The two houses 
I have named are situated on the banks of the princi- 
pal lake, about a mile apart, and both command beau- 
tiful views. I suppose the lake region looks all the 
more charming after passing through the squalid town ; 
at any rate our first impression was that in all our wan- 
derings we had stumbled upon no more delightful spot. 

The next day after our arrival was a blessed day of 
rest, and we did rest and were thankful, too, I hope. 
But we were up bright and early on Monday morning, 
for we had a long trip planned which would take the 
whole day to accomplish. Our design was to drive 
to the head of the lakes and return by boat, an excur- 
sion which would enable us to see more of the country 



To Mcrope and Back. 235 

in one day than would be possible in any other way. 
All arrangements for this trip and many others, can 
be made with the proprietors of the hotels, who have 
fixed tariffs for all the charges — a plan that relieves 
the tourist of a great deal of trouble. We took a car- 
riage (no more jaunting-cars, mind you ! ) to the Gap of 
Dunloe, driving several miles before that pass was 
reached. We had barely started before we were beset 
with women on the road offering bog-oak trinkets for 
sale. One, more persevering than the rest, ran quite 
half a mile beside the carriage, though we were going 
at a good round pace ; and she talked faster than she 
ran. Seeing that she would not be denied, I stopped 
the carriage and purchased some trifle, and was much 
laughed at for my pains when it was discovered later 
in the day that I had paid about double price for the 
ornament. However,. it was worth the money to see 
the woman spit on the coin "for luck," and to hear 
her voluble outpouring of thanks. It was her first 
sale that morning, and now she would be sure of "the 
bright good luck" all the week. We soon had occa- 
sion to think it unfortunate that we started so early, 
for, being the first party that had passed, we were 
beset with double importunity from the whole ragged 
tribe to give them a good start in the week's business. 
One hardly knows whether to be annoyed or amused 
at the pertinacity of these highway merchants — but 
after all the loose change is gone I think the former 
sentiment gains the ascendancy. 



4 



236 Rough Notes of a Trip 

Just at the entrance to the Gap stands the cottage 
where the famous beauty, Kate Kearney, lived. It is 
now occupied by a grand-daughter of hers, still claim- 
ing the same name and having a remarkably large 
family, all active despoilers of travelers' purses. I 
think it was a great-grand-daughter who paid particu- 
lar attentions to me. She was a big, strapping girl, 
with not much of her ancestor's beauty unless it was 
in her bold, handsome, dark eyes. It was quite un- 
necessary for me to "beware of her eye," though I 
did pay for a drink of goat's milk and " mountain 
dew" — the "rale stuff" she said — which I didn't 
drink. Such a crowd of urgent half-beggars gather- 
ed about us at this point, all insisting upon our buy- 
ing something — lace, bog-wood ornaments, or other 
trumpery — that we were glad to break away and 
mount horses for the passage through the Gap, as the 
carriage could proceed no further. All did mount 
horses, I say, but one dismounted again, very quickly, 
for he soon discovered that he could not ride a horse 
with ease or safety. It was quite a little cavalcade 
that rode gaily through the Gap of Dunloe that morn- 
ing, but the solitary pedestrian still thinks he had the 
best of it, for his were much the best opportunities to 
note the singular scenery of that four miles of narrow 
mountain defile. 

A little stream courses through the glen, widening 
at different points into five little lakes, each with a 
characteristic name, and a legend, too, of course. 



To Europe and Back. 237 

One, the " Black Lough," is the spot where St. Pat- 
rick is said to have banished the last Irish snake. The 
traveler gazes with a touch of awe at the lofty pro- 
jecting rocks which enclose the narrow path on either 
side, threatening to tumble over at every step, bring- 
ing destruction with their fall. When we emerged 
from the Gap, we were within sight of the Black 
Valley, which we did not explore for want of time, 
though we could see something of its gloomy yet pic- 
turesque aspect. An imaginative writer thus speaks 
of this valley: "Had there been at the bottom among 
the rugged masses of black rock, some smoke and 
flame instead of water, we might have imagined we 
were looking into the entrance to the infernal re- 
gions." Oh, the sturdy beggars that beset the rough 
and rugged path I traveled that day! What mingled 
perseverance and impudence they displayed in their 
charges upon my sympathies ! I almost wished I was 
on horseback again. One stout woman, " a poor widow 
with six small children," trudged along by my side 
nearly half a mile, trying to wheedle a sixpence out 
of me; and when I told her that I had no silver left 
she offered to change a sovereign for me ! I borrowed 
a sixpence to give her, thinking the coolness of the 
thing worth the money, though, as I told her, I was 
almost ashamed to offer so insignificant a sum to so 
considerable a capitalist. 

Soon after we passed the Gap we found the boat 
which had been sent through the lakes to take us home 
11* 



238 Rough Notes of a Trip 

that way. It was manned by four stout oarsmen, and 
a bugler who was cockswain as well. The landlord 
had sent us an appetizing lunch, to which we were by 
this time able to do ample justice. We were then in 
the Upper Lake, a beautiful sheet of water, not quite 
three miles in length by less than a mile in breadth, 
but containing twelve little islands, each a gem. The 
prettiest is called Arbutus Island, from being almost 
entirely covered with that beautiful plant. Majestic 
mountains enclose the placid Lake, and, as we glided 
along, the scene was one continued enjoyment. Near 
the Long Range — a little river of about two miles in 
length, and through which we rowed to the Middle 
Lake — a mountain called the Eagle's Nest rears its 
lofty head seven hundred feet almost perpendicularly 
above the water. Our cockswain landed on the oppo- 
site shore, and, standing behind a rock, played some 
tunes on his bugle. The original notes were quite 
lost to us, but the echoes from the Eagle's Nest were 
very distinct and musical. 

I cannot tell all I remember of that delightful ex- 
cursion, for want of room. I know that we thought 
the Meeting of the Waters, just as we reached the 
Middle Lake, a more remarkable view than anything 
we had seen yet; that the Middle Lake was prettier 
than the Upper; and when we reached the Lower 
Lake, we thought that more beautiful still. The last 
is quite an imposing sheet of water, five miles long by 
three broad. More than thirty islands dot its surface. 



To Europe and Back. 239 

On Ross Island the ruins of the Castle once inhabited 
by the O'Donaghue of the Lakes, call to mind a le- 
gend about that Chieftain which our bugler relates in 
a pleasant brogue. The most charming spot on the 
Lake to my mind is that part called Glenna Bay. 
Here we landed, and looked over a picturesque little 
cottage belonging to Lady Kenmare. It was not for- 
gotten to inform us that Queen Victoria took lunch 
in this cottage when she visited the lakes. The view 
from this spot was so enchanting that we lingered on 
it almost too long, and had not, therefore, as much 
time left as we wished when we stopped at Innisfallen 
Island, the most interesting of them all, where we saw 
the ruins of an old Abbey said to be founded in the 
year 600 by St. Finian, who must be the patron saint 
that has so many followers now-a-days. What pretty 
glades and lawns, what grand old trees and shrubs — 
(here is the largest holly tree in the world) — what 
magnificent views we saw whilst on that island I can- 
not pretend to describe. Did not Moore write of 
" Sweet Innisfallen " ? Then why should I ? Yet it 
will be a satisfaction to me to "drop into poetry" 
like Mr. Wegg, as I take my leave of that enchanting 
spot: 

11 Sweet Innisfallen , long shall dwell 
In memory's dream that sunny smile, 
Which o'er thee on that evening fell 
When first I saw thy fairy isle." 






Half an hour's steady rowing landed us at the hotel. 



240 Rough Notes of a Trip 

What a long day of pleasure it had been ! Nearly 
five hours of it had been spent on the waters — the 
boatmen singing — and dancing too, at such times as 
we landed, the wildest, maddest Irish jigs — the bugler 
playing — passing boats hailing us, giving cheers for 
the Americans — and all going " merry as a marriage 
bell." Nor were the songs of old Ireland the only 
songs heard upon Killarney's lakes that day. John 
Brown went marching on, Tramp, tramp, and Johnny 
came marching home, while the Star Spangled Ban- 
ner in triumph did wave — at least we sung that it 
did! 

If the next day had been fine, we should have made 
other excursions from Killarney, but two pleasant days 
in succession are rarely seen in Ireland, I am told. Rain, 
however, is no great detriment to railway traveling, 
so we went down to Cork, and had one day longer 
there than we expected. This we improved by driv- 
ing about the city and to Blarney Castle, about five 
miles out. We thought Cork a handsome city, and 
with a more active business aspect than Dublin, but 
had no time to make notes about it. Blarney claimed 
more attention. There is but little left of the Castle, 
except one massive tower, about one hundred and 
twenty feet in height. It is almost completely covered 
with ivy, and is a picturesque ruin enough, but noth- 
ing remarkable. It's the Blarney Stone that gives it 
such notoriety, and brings most of the visitors, no 
doubt. A long flat stone, held in its place on a pro- 



To Europe and Back. 241 

jecting buttress at the summit of the tower by two iron 
bands clasped around it — that's the Blarney Stone. 
To kiss it, it is necessary to project the body over the 
wall, holding on by the iron bands, a feat of some dan- 
ger. "Father Prout" sang of the Stone in this wise: 

" There is a stone there, 
That whoever kisses, 
Oh, he never misses 

To grow eloquent. 
' Tis he may clamber 
To a lady's chamber, 
Or become a member 
Of Parliament. 

"A clever spouter 
He'll sure turn out, or 
An out and outer 

To be let alone ! 
Don't hope to hinder him 
Or to bewilder him, 
Sure he's a pilgrim 

From the Blarney Stone." 

Having read this you will perhaps wonder I didn't 
attempt to accomplish the feat. A word in your ear 
— don't mention it — I had been often told that I must 
have kissed the Blarney Stone, before I ever saw it — 
and thought, therefore, it was not necessary to risk 
my neck ! 

The pleasure grounds near the Castle are the cele- 
brated Groves of Blarney, which are so charming. It 
needs the song, though, to make one think them any- 



242 Rough Notes of a Trip 

thing extraordinary. A fat old woman keeps the 
keys of the Castle. She has done so for more than 
thirty years, she says. A fat old fellow shows the 
Groves. Both expect fees, and a friend, whose linger- 
ing behind I had not been able to account for, told 
me the old woman said that gentlemen who did not 
kiss the Stone usually kissed her instead, a fee I am 
sure he paid though he denies it to this day. 

Back to Cork, and next morning down to Queens- 
town — noting nothing. Too full of preparations for 
the voyage home. It was stormy weather, and some- 
what doubtful whether the steamer could get in. The 
voyage commenced inauspiciously. As I was leaving 
the office for the little steamer which was waiting to 
take us to the ship, the agent called the attention of 
a gentleman to the barometer, and said these ominous 
words — the last I heard on shore: "My God, look 
how the glass is running down! There is bad 
weather ahead ! " 



To Europe and Back. 243 



XIV. 

DESCRIPTIVE OF THE VOYAGE HOME, AND NARRATING SOME 
INCIDENTS AND DISASTERS WHICH HAPPENED DURING A 
GREAT STORM. 

Buffalo, October 19th, 1866. 
It was not a very encouraging omen with which to 
commence a voyage across the Atlantic — that remark 
of the man who looked at the barometer, as quoted at 
the end of my last letter, — and I confess that, though 
generally disposed to look on the bright side of things, 
those ominous words fell on my ear with a rather 
chilling effect. In truth, the weather was already bad 
enough. We had for several hours been watching the 
harbor from the window of the hotel, looking for the 
arrival of the steamer, and noting with something of 
apprehension the unfavorable aspect of the weather 
which became more and more unfavorable every min- 
ute. When she did arrive, at length, it was raining 
hard, and blowing harder. I had got completely wet 
through as well as bothered and perplexed, in looking 
after baggage, and had lost my dinner besides. I 



244 Rongji Notes of a Trip 

doubt if Mark Tapley himself would not have found 
it difficult to keep up an appearance of jollity under 
such discouraging circumstances. I made an effort, 
however, and believe it succeeded tolerably well. To 
board the ship was a work of some difficulty. The 
little steamer which carried us to her side was bob- 
bing about in a very aggravating way, and it was 
partly a lift, partly a shove, partly a slip and partly a 
jump that landed us on the deck of that A 1 steamer, 
on the twentieth day of September — of all the days 
in the year the most inauspicious for Atlantic voy- 
ages, as I have since been told. 

Nor was there much to encourage us in the first 
appearance of matters on board the ship. She was 
over-crowded with passengers. Trunks and boxes 
blocked the way in the passages between the cabins, 
and when we found our rooms they were occupied by 
other people. It was not pleasant. The ship was on 
her course before we had obtained' possession of our 
rooms, and it was not an easy matter to get settled 
then, for she soon began to rock in a manner very 
trying to the stomach. It is a great comfort to have 
all one's little conveniences nicely arranged in one's 
cabin, and I advise travelers, therefore, to get their 
rooms fairly in order before the ship starts, for there 
is no telling how soon they may want to lie down, 
quite careless of appearances. 

Before night at least two-thirds of the passengers 
were sea-sick. What dreadful sickness there was in 



To Europe and Back. 245 

my own party, and how busy and anxious a time it 
was for me, who, fortunately, had not even a qualm, 
and was therefore able to be of some use — this is not 
the place to tell. My business is to try and tell some- 
thing about that memorable voyage home — a voyage 
that will not be forgotten, I am sure, by any one of 
the passengers. The wind was against us from the 
start. The ship fought her way along bravely, in 
spite of it, making pretty fair progress the first three 
days, though the weather was rougher, and the sea 
ran higher, all the time, than I had seen it on the voy- 
age out. Thus far, however, it was simply rough, 
disagreeable weather; unpleasant, but not dangerous. 
The great storm commenced on the evening of Sun- 
day, the twenty-third of September, and it proved to 
be one of the longest and most violent that ever swept 
over the Atlantic. 

The night of Sunday was a terrible one. The ship 
was kept on her course in the teeth of the gale. She 
rocked and pitched so fearfully that sleep was impossi- 
ble. But the rocking and pitching did not cause 
the worst sensation. Every few minutes the ship 
would give a great plunge, and then the screw came 
out of the water and made a tremendous noise — a 
horrible, craunching noise, which thrilled through the 
nerves of the passengers like an actual spasm of pain. 
The ship would writhe and quiver, and groan almost, 
at these times, as though she were a great living 
creature having one of her largest teeth wrenched out, 



246 Rough Notes of a Trip 

and one half expected to hear her scream in agony. 
Morning found the passengers a wretched set of be- 
ings, most of them sick and frightened. The scene in 
the cabins was one of dire confusion. It was next to 
impossible to keep on one's feet, or on a seat, indeed, 
without a tight grasp upon something. Every effort 
was made to preserve the regular routine of the 
meals, but the few who were bold enough, or uncon- 
cerned enough, to try to eat, made poor work of it. 
The gale increased in fury all day. The captain, a 
daring and pugnacious sort of man, with a great repu- 
tation for making quick voyages, appeared to be de- 
termined to fight the elements. He kept the ship on 
her course, though the fearful gale was dead against 
her, and drove the poor vessel along, in spite of the 
blinding blows of the waves which smote her in the 
face and battered her, right and left, every minute. 
As she tore along through the dreadful roaring wa- 
ters, I thought her like a wild horse, and the waves 
like a pack of hungry wolves with frothing jaws leap- 
ing at her throat. 

At about ten o'clock of Monday night the gale 
seemed to. have reached its height. It was then that a 
tremendous sea broke over the stern of the ship, 
crushed the pilot-house like an egg-shell, and shattered 
the steering-wheels into a thousand splinters. The 
men at the wheel were dashed out of the house and 
swept along the decks like toys. This moment was 
the crisis of our fate. It was a fortunate circum- 



To Europe and Back. 247 

stance — to us it seemed a Providence — that the ship 
was provided with an extra pilot-house and steering 
apparatus near the middle of the deck, being the only 
ship of the line, I believe, which is thus equipped. 
The brave man who had charge of the wheel rushed 
into the broken house again, through the surging wa- 
ters, and put a brake on the rudder ; then ran forward 
and reported the disaster to the captain, who immedi- 
ately manned the extra wheel. The safety of the. ship 
and her passengers and crew, was due, under God, to 
the presence of mind exhibited by this brave seaman. 
Had he been less prompt or less plucky we should 
have been lost. And so we should if another great 
wave had struck the ship in the interval when she was 
without the use of a rudder. We were, indeed, with- 
in a minute of destruction. 

Up to this time our captain had been fighting the 
storm. He was the kind of man to return blow for 
blow, and never give in. He had kept the ship up to 
the work, facing the wind, and making her take the 
punishment as he would himself, like a man. But the 
contest was manifestly too unequal, and at length 
more prudent counsels prevailed, and the ship was 
u hove to." The storm did not abate, however, for 
nearly twenty-four hours longer. The passengers, 
even the boldest of them, began to lose heart at the 
prolonged struggle. No outcry, no complaints, no 
weeping, were heard, but every face wore a grave and 
an anxious expression. The whole of Tuesday was 



248 Rough Notes of a Trip 

passed in this way. None of the passengers were 
able to get out upon deck to see what was the state 
of the ship. One of the cabin doors was bolted, and 
men stood guard at the other, watching opportunities 
to let the servants out and in, as was necessary, 
fastening the door when a lurch of the ship brought a 
huge wave over that side. At such moments we 
could catch a glimpse of the angry sea, alive with 
" cruel, crawling foam," hissing and seething, rushing 
at the ship in great mountainous waves, as if eager to 
swallow us all at one vast gulp — huge waves that 
shut out all view of the sky. The roar of the tempest 
drowned all other sounds, even though we heard it 
only through closed doors. Shouts became as whis- 
pers. Men tried to talk, and most of them wished to 
say something cheering to each other: but it was al- 
most as difficult to speak as it was to hear — and more 
difficult than either was it to appear cheerful. The 
constant recurrence of that dreadful noise when the 
screw came out of the water — a noise that was neither 
a grating, a clanking, a pounding, or a ringing noise, 
but a harrowing commingling of them all — kept all 
nerves on the rack. You could see strong men brace 
themselves against it, set their teeth when they felt it 
coming, and draw a long breath, when it was over, 
as if they had just endured severe pain. 

Many hours I watched the sea from the little round 
window in my state room. It had a sort of fascina- 
tion for me. It was a terribly beautiful sight. The 



To Europe and Back. 249 

whole expanse one vast whirl, the mad waves leaping 
after each other and dashing against the ship, scatter- 
ing sparkling phosphorescent bubbles all along as far 
as the eye could see. Sometimes, when the ship 
would give a deep lurch, the waves would run so high 
above the window that I was looking into the calm 
solid water, like clear ice, far below the raging foam- 
ing surface. At such times it was not difficult to im- 
agine oneself in another world, and I don't think it 
would have surprised me much if a mermaid had 
peeped into the window. 

Late on Tuesday evening there were signs that the 
worst fury of the storm was over, though there was 
but little difference in the appearance of the sea. I 
was watching eagerly for these favorable indications 
— but watching a long while without much faith in 
them. At last the change was too evident for doubt. 
Here and there a star glimmered out. It was report- 
ed that the sky was clearing up in the west. There was 
less to be heard of that horrid hissing noise which 
had pervaded the roar of the tempest. I shall never 
forget what welcome words those were, which an en- 
thusiastic young friend called out to me as he passed 
my cabin at about midnight. " Good news ! " cried he. 
u The barometer is going up steadily, and the captain 
has gone to bed!" 

Good news indeed! The captain had never left 
the deck since Sunday evening — nearly sixty hours. 
The fact that he had now gone to bed was certainly 






250 Rough Notes of a Trip 

a favorable omen. All sorts of alarming stories had 
been told among the passengers, because he had not 
been seen. He had been washed overboard, with 
several of the men ! Two or three of the other offi- 
cers were disabled ! The ship was almost a wreck ! 
Fortunately there was but little foundation for these 
alarming stories. No man had been lost, and none 
of the crew had been very seriously injured, except 
one poor fellow who had a hand badly crushed when 
the steering wheel was carried away. Two of his 
fingers were afterward amputated. The second officer 
had been dashed against the guards, with a force that 
bent an iron wire an inch in diameter, and was swept 
over the rail and flung upon the main deck, where he 
found himself with his head in a scupper-hole nearly a 
hundred feet from where he started. He was disabled 
for the rest of the voyage, except the last day, when he 
made his appearance with his arm in a sling. The 
captain escaped without any bruises, but his neck 
was all raw, when he was first seen after the storm, 
from the constant beating of the salt spray. Many 
blamed him severely for running the ship so near to 
destruction, but all were glad to see him again. He 
looked like a man who would fight to the death, with 
his short tight-curly sandy hair, his little sparkling 
eyes, red square face, glittering teeth, and thick bull 
neck. He was a model of strength and daring, and 
his ship was new, big and powerful — but how puny 
both had been in the contest with the elements ! 



To fflirqpe and Back. 251 

On Wednesday morning there was a visible .change 
for the better, though the sea was still running very 
high. The passengers were thankful and happy. 
Some venturesome ones made their way upon deck, 
to look at the damages done by the storm. The pilot- 
house was a complete wreck. The bowsprit had been 
carried away. All the topmasts were gone. Some of 
the life-boats were half-torn from their fastenings. 
Many other marks of its visitation had been left by 
the storm. Generally speaking, landsmen overrate 
the dangers of the situation when there is anything 
like rough weather at sea, and they have but little 
satisfaction in asking sailors what they thought about 
it, as the latter are apt to pooh-pooh their expressions 
of alarm. It is seldom that a sailor will admit that 
he has not seen worse storms. The case was different 
with this. The captain said that he had never been 
out in a more "nasty storm." He told the passengers 
that they might cross the Atlantic two hundred times 
and not encounter such another. The chief engineer, 
a man of great experience, said he had thought the 
ship was lost. She made one plunge which it seemed 
must be her last. The fifteen seconds of suspense fol- 
lowing this thought were as long as fifteen minutes, 
he said. There was an old sea-captain among the 
passengers, who had commanded a packet ship be- 
tween Liverpool and New York more than twenty 
years. He was my main stay. I had become quite 
intimate with him, and I know that during the storm 



252 Rough Notes of a Trip 

he was as anxious as so cool a man could be. I had 
observed him watching the ship when she was labor- 
ing hardest. His fear was that she would break in 
two, under some of the fearful strains. But she was 
a grand ship, he said, and he could not sufficiently 
praise her.. He, also, had never seen a storm that 
was at once so violent and so long. 

Talk about these matters made the day pass quickly. 
Almost every body appeared to be rather glad, now 
that the danger was past, that we had undergone such 
an experience. It was something to talk about here- 
after. Our escape was something we could be con- 
gratulated upon. It was something that none of us 
would ever forget. The remembrance of our great 
peril would add a zest to the fireside comforts of 
home. Mingled with all this talk there was a feeling 
of gratitude — earnest, too, I hope — to that Power 
who had held us in the hollow of his hand. We spec- 
ulated much as to the progress the ship had made 
during the three days' storm. At noon the record 
was posted up. She had done but little more than 
one good day's work in the three. From Monday 
noon till Tuesday noon she made only thirty miles. 
Imagine what a desperate struggle that noble ship had 
gone through ! 

All this day (Wednesday) the sea was very rough. 
If it had not been so much more furious before, we 
should have thought the storm still a great one. It 
was on this day that an accident happened to the pres- 



To Europe and Bach. 253 

ent writer, which he dislikes to tell, never having suc- 
ceeded in eliciting the slightest sympathy from any 
hearer of his tale. On the contrary, generally he gets 
laughed at instead. But then, I know he would have 
told the story, had he seen the accident happen to 
any other unfortunate — so it shall be honestly set 
down here. 

With infinite pains I had shaved and bathed and put 
on clean clothes. Not another man in the ship had 
risked the first-mentioned operation, either at his own 
hand or at the barber's. It was almost as bad as try- 
ing to shave on a tight rope, swaying back and forth, 
pitching hither and thither, according to the motion 
of the ship — but I persevered, and did the deed. 
Not a little proud was I when my remarkably clean 
appearance was noticed in the saloon, for by this time 
almost every man's beard was nearly a week old. 
Well, in an evil moment I accepted a challenge from 
a younger and more active man who dared me to run 
up with him to the upper deck, and examine the 
damages inflicted by the storm. He led the way, 
and got safely up the stairs. I followed — alas! that 
I x did not lead ! Just as my upper half appeared 
above the stairs, a big wave came over the stern of 
the ship, struck me in the middle, and wet down my 
lower half as thoroughly as though I had been dipped 
in the sea. It quite took my breath away, but I 
couldn't say any thing when I recovered it again. 
My thoughts were too deep for utterance. It was 
12 



254 Rough Notes of a Trip 

less than half an hour since I had left my cabin, clean, 
smooth and smiling, when I returned, wet, dripping 
and miserable. My coat was a short one and was not 
wet, thanks at that moment to the judicious tailor 
who had persuaded me to adopt the style, in spite of 
my old-fashioned prejudices. My wet garments ( why 
do I mention them?) were soon removed. I had but 
one dry pair left which were accessible. They were 
in a valise, which I as yet had had no occasion, or no 
ambition rather, to unlock. Where were my keys? 
I felt for them in all my pockets, but found them not. 
Horror upon horrors, they could not surely be lost! 
Yes, I was quite certain now, I had left them in Cork. 
I cannot describe the feeling of utter desolation which 
overwhelmed me when I at last gave up the search for 
the keys, and realized the full difficulties of my situa- 
tion. I sat down on the sofa (how cold and scratchy 
its horse-hair cover was !) and gave myself up to de- 
spair. It was a tragical moment, and I felt ready to 
welcome another storm, be it ever so stormy. There 
hung those wet things, (which must not be mentioned) 
dripping aggravatingly, with at least a pail-full of 
nasty salt water absorbed in them. I could not go out 
to borrow a pair, for the hall was full of ladies, sitting 
on boxes, talking about the dangers we had passed 
through. My position was truly an embarrassing one. 
What did I care then for the trumpery dangers those 
women were magnifying so absurdly? How ridicu- 
lously short my coat was, and how I inwardly do- 



To Europe and Back. 255 

nounced the villian of a tailor who had enveigled me 
into the miserable skirtless thing, against my own 
better judgment ! If there was a patient sufferer on 
that ship just then (I heard of one) it was not me. 
. . . . At last I was persuaded to search an- 
other set of pockets for the keys, and found them too 
where I had not the least notion they could be. How 
hastily I opened the valise, and how thankfully I put 
on those welcome things (which I am now almost 
tempted to mention), though they were quite too 
thin for ship wear, I must leave you to imagine, as I 
cannot describe my feelings. But I didn't trust the 
treacherous waves any more during the voyage, for I 
now had on my last pair. 

If I had room I could tell about some queer talk I 
heard among the passengers, touching the storm and 
its dangers. What would have happened in such a 
case, and what we should have done if it had not been 
for such a thing. There were, in particular, certain 
speculations about the vessel — supposing it to be 
made in compartments, and one should get suddenly 
filled, whether the others would be equal to the 
emergency, and so on — which would amuse, I am 
sure, if they could be understood. But you know 
how people will talk on such an occasion. It is bet- 
ter that I should go on with the story of the voyage. 
Thursday was a tolerably fair day, the first we had 
been favored with, then eight days out. Still the wind, 
what there was of it, was against us. By night the 



256 Rough Notes of a Trip 

weather was thick again, and on Friday morning we 
were in another storm, only less severe than the last. 
It appeared to me that the ship rolled and plunged as 
frightfully as before. But I saw the danger was not 
so great. Yet it was excessively discouraging. Many 
who had kept up good courage entirely through the 
first storm, now lost all heart. I think there was 
more fear manifested now than ever before, for it 
seemed that the elements were bent upon our destruc- 
tion. I noticed one young lady — a pretty willful 
little creature who had assumed the attentions of 
everybody as due to her by right— trying to play 
whist. She picked out her card, and minced and 
flirted, just as she had done the day before ; but, sud- 
denly, as the ship gave a deeper plunge than usual, 
and that horrible noise of the screw thrilled again 
through all nerves, she flung her cards upon the table, 
and covering her face in her hands, threw herself 
down on the seat, a picture of utter despair. 

I observed many such indications. There was one 
gentleman the state of whose nerves was distressing 
to behold. He had been very much frightened all 
through the first storm and had the frankness to admit 
the fact. But he was not altogether hopeless then — 
now he gave up all for lost. I tried to divert his 
thoughts, and asked him to be my partner at a game 
of whist. He strove heroically for a while to give 
proper attention to the game, but every time that 
craunching noise was repeated, he would stop, lose the 



To Europe and Back. 257 

run of the game — his face blanched his chin quiver- 
ing, and his eyes red with fear. At last he gave it up. 
He could not possibly, he said, control his nerves. 
"Something tells me," he added, "that something is 
going to happen to night." I think that no one felt 
anything but sympathy for his distress. 

The storm continued nearly all night, but by morn- 
ing had sensibly abated. Almost the first man I saw 
was the gentleman of whom I have spoken. He was 

queerly dressed. " Why, G ," said I, " what's the 

matter ? " Then he poured out this story with great 
unction : 

" You know," he began, ".I told you last night that 
something told me something was going to happen. 
I went to my room at about one o'clock, but couldn't 

get to sleep. I told T , who rooms with me, as I 

had told you, that something warned me something 
was going to happen that night. He laughed at me, 
told me the ship was going splendidly, that this was 
nothing compared with the other storm, and urged 
me to go to sleep. ' There's not a bit of danger,' said 
he; 'we're all right, I tell you!' The words were 
hardly out of his mouth when the door was dashed 
in, and I found myself on my back in the water, my 
hands in the air, feeling for something to grasp upon. 
I thought it was all over, and so did T . Some- 
body called out, ' Stop the ship ! stop the ship ! ' 

(T says it was me, but that's no matter.) Our 

cabin was full of water, and we were tossing about, 



258 Rough Notes of a Trip 

thinking the ship was going to pieces. We couldn't 
get out till the old boatswain came to our help. You 
know the old boatswain — weighs about two hundred 
and fifty, with a face like the rising sun, and a voice 
like a locomotive with a bad cold. c What's the mat- 
ter, boys?' say& he. 'For God's sake, boatswain,' 
said I, c what kind of weather do you call this ? Are 
we all going to the bottom ? ' c Oh, it's all right, sir,' 
replied he, 'bootiful weather — bootiful weather, sir!' 
— Wasn't that aggravating? And wasn't I right 
last night ? I knew something was going to happen, 
for something told me so ! " 

I think he was quite jubilant over the fulfillment of 
his prediction, though all his clothes were wet through 
and he had been obliged to borrow one man's hat, an- 
other man's coat, and so on. His cabin was on the 
upper deck, and it must have been a huge wave in- 
deed which had overwhelmed it. 

We encountered but little more bad weather on the 
voyage. Saturday was not a very rough day. With 
fair weather we should have been in New York that 
morning — now we were more than a thousand miles 
away. On Sunday, when the Morning Prayer was 
read, the saloon was crowded, and I know that all 
heartily joined in the Thanksgiving for our Deliver- 
ance from the Storms. In the early part of the day 
the weather was tolerably fair, but later it rained and 
stormed a little, just enough to keep us all from being 
too jubilant. Monday was a lovely day, and we felt 



To Europe and Back. 259 

that we were in American waters. How happy all 
were when land birds flew into the rigging and we 
thought them like friends from home, come with good 
news to meet us on the way — how excited when the 
pilot came on board in the evening — how delighted 
the next morning when we saw the welcome land — 
how impatient to set foot on shore when we were de- 
tained about an hour at anchor — and how profoundly 
grateful to find ourselves once more upon the solid 
earth, the blessed Home land, — it is not given me 
to tell. The voyage was over — the dangers past — 
friends were waiting to welcome us — and we were 
" Home again ! " Thank God. 



260 Rough Notes of a Trip 



XV. 

CONSISTING MAINLY OF HINTS FOR TRAVELERS, WITH SOME 
REFLECTIONS UPON THE TRIP, AND HERE AND THERE A 
REMINISCENCE. 

It is worth a man's while to go abroad if only to 
realize the happiness of returning home again. I had 
indulged in the pleasure of anticipation, in respect to 
this, all the time I was away, and the result did not 
disappoint me. No fact that I have written has been 
set down with greater truth, or with more satisfaction 
than this. 

Another pleasure gained is that of retrospection. 
The returned tourist has not been home long before 
he begins to review the ground over which he has 
passed. It is more than likely, that, as in my own 
case, he will be asked so many questions about places 
which he did not visit, as to make him think at first 
that he has seen almost nothing. But the second 
thought will dispel the illusion. It is hardly possible 
but he must have brought away from Europe a thou- 
sand memories of places and things famous and beau- 



To Europe and Back. 261 

tiful. The impressions on his mind may be cloudy 
and obscure, or they may be confused because there 
are so many of them ; but a little dust brushed away, 
a little order in the arrangement, a little warming of 
the memory-plate before the fire of imagination, and 
soon the pictures become clear and distinct, and the 
tourist will make the journey, see the sights, and re- 
alize all his adventures over again. He will then be 
satisfied that instead of having seen almost nothing, 
he saw more than appeared to be possible until the 
retrospection placed the facts before him. A mere 
enumeration of the places he visited will be very likely 
to surprise him. From a glance at the record of my 
own brief summer holiday one may learn how much 
can be done in the way of traveling and sight-seeing 
in Europe in a very limited period. I was gone from 
home only four months. I was not a systematic trav- 
eler, by any means. Much more than I accomplished 
could be done in the same space of time by any tour- 
ist who would lay out his routes carefully and rigidly 
pursue them. Yet, in my careless, unmethodical 
fashion, I managed to spend one day in Bremen — 

nearly two weeks in Dresden, the capital of Saxony, 

Hi 
witnessing the occupation of that city by the Prus- 
sians, the first important incident of the great cam- 
paign — a week in Berlin and Potsdam — five days at 
Cologne and "up the Rhine" — a few days at Wies- 
baden, Frankfort and Homburg — two days at Heid- 
elberg and one at Strasburg — ten days in Switzerland, 
12* 



262 Bough Notes of a Trip 

stopping at Basle, Berne, Interlaken and the Lakes, 
and at the Swiss metropolis, Geneva — more than two 
weeks in Paris, including Versailles and Fontaine- 
bleau— nearly a whole month in London — about ten 
days more in England, making visits to Portsmouth, 
the Isle of Wight, Leamington, Stratford, Warwick, 
Kenilworth, Chester and Liverpool — concluding with 
a week in Ireland, during which I visited Dublin, 
Bray and the County Wicklow, the Lakes of Kil- 
larney, Cork and Queenstown, not forgetting Blarney, 
its Castle, its Groves, and its Blarney Stone. A 
pretty good summer's trip, certainly. 

The tourist realizes one of the greatest advantages 
gained in foreign travel after he has returned home. 
He will be surprised at the greatly enhanced interest 
discovered in much of his reading. It was but the 
other day that I read a little story, the scene of which 
was laid in Switzerland. There was not much of the 
tale itself,— in fact I should not have read it at all ex- 
cept that in glancing over it my eye caught some fa- 
miliar names — but the incidents occurred in places 
where I had traveled, the lovers climbed mountains 
together that I had seen, the denouement took place 
at a hotel where I had sojourned — and there were all 
my experiences in that charming country brought be- 
fore my imagination as vividly as if they were events 
of only yesterday ! Some pleasure of this sort occurs 
almost every day. The ponderous " leaders " of the 
London Times are not imaginative reading, generally 



To Europe and Bach. 263 

speaking. I have not, unfortunately, (or otherwise !) 
many spare minutes for that kind of literature. Yet, 
not long ago, I read one of the Thunderer's articles 
with wonderful interest, and my imagination was 
more excited therein than it usually is by the most 
thrilling pages of poetry or romance. The article was 
upon the withdrawal of the British diplomatic repre- 
sentative from the Court of Saxony. In other days 
the subject would have possessed no interest for me, 
but now every sentence was full of matter that 
brought up recollections of Dresden, and my brief 
stay there, and my hurried departure therefrom. 
How many reminiscences grew out of this single 
paragraph ! — 

"The name of Saxony, its dynasty, its territorial demarca- 
tion, are suffered to remain ; but foreign diplomacy knows it 
no more. Some of the stateliest mansions of Dresden are left 
untenanted; the shine is taken off its Court dresses; some of 
the brightest stars fade from the galaxy of the Opera. The 
club, the terrace, the gardens miss some of their most dis- 
tinguished loungers. Dresden's great attractions are there 
still; the unmatched Picture Gallery; the unique Holbein; 
the loveliest Raphael : but, alas ! who cares for the entree to a 
mediatized Court ? for balls and receptions for which no Le- 
gation any longer gives cards ? " 

I saw it all before me again — the great event that 
had presaged this change ! I saw again that melan- 
choly march of the poor old King with his little army 
out of the beautiful city, and the triumphant entry of 
the powerful Prussians. I lounged again through the 



264 Rough Notes of a Trip 

Great Gallery and had bright visions of those glori- 
ous pictures. All the attractions of the German Flor- 
ence were spread before me again, and I realized 
again the meaning of the German friend, who, in de- 
scribing Dresden to me before I left home, had 
summed it up in this brief exclamation : " Dresden ? 
Paradise / " * 

Friends ask me if it is worth while to go to Europe 
for a single summer. Most surely it is. Take a year, 
if you can — but if you can't spare more than a sum- 

* As I gave the King of Saxony's Proclamation on leaving Saxony ( see 
page 28 ) it occurs to me that it will be proper to give his address to his 
people on returning. Here it is : 

"Saxons! — 

"After a long and grievous separation, after a season teeming with 
" great events, I return once more among you. 

"I know what you have suffered and borne, and I have sympathized 
" with my whole heart, but I know also with what firm fidelity you have 
" adhered through all trials to your native Prince. This thought has been, 
" next to my trust in God, my best consolation in the hours of sadness with 
" which by the inscrutable decrees of Providence, both you and I have 
" been afflicted. It gives me new courage to resume my old daily task. 

<f With all my former affection increased, if it be possible, by the num- 
erous evidences of attachment which I have received, I shall devote the 
"days which it may please God to grant me to healing the wounds of the 
"country, to advancing its prosperity, to maintaining law and justice, and 
"to the judicious development of our political institutions. In the per- 
"formance of that great task I rely upon the support of the representa- 
" tives of the country, before whom I shall go with the frankness and 
" confidence of past times. 

" With the fidelity with which I supported the old Confederation I shall 
" adhere to the new union into which I now enter, and I shall do all that 
"lies in my power to render it as fruitful as possible for our limited coun- 
" try and for our great common Fatherland. 

"May the Almighty bless our common efforts, and may Saxony remain 
"as she was before — a country of peace, order, of intellectual culture and 
" morality, and in the fear of God ! 

" Toplitz, Oct. 26. John." 



To Europe and Back. 265 

mer, take that. Of course it is better to do what you 
can do thoroughly, than to merely race over the 
ground and be only able to say that you have visited 
such and such places. But if you cannot see all the 
note-worthy objects of any place, to see half of them 
is better than to see none at all. I know that many 
think it hardly desirable to go to any interesting 
place unless sufficient time can be given to do justice 
to its attractions. But I think differently. "Make 
the most of your opportunities" is as good a maxim 
to guide the tourist in his travels as in any of the 
more practical occupations of life. It is the habit of 
Europeans to laugh at the rapid pace which Ameri- 
cans keep up in their pleasure traveling. "How is it," 
said a gentleman to me in London, "that you manage 
to get over so much ground in a single summer? We 
go to Scotland, or Germany, or to the sea-side, or 
somewhere else, for a month or two, and that's all we 
think of doing in one summer. But you Americans 
go all over Europe in three or four months, and call 
it pleasure! We should call^it hard work." I re- 
minded him that Americans had to travel three or 
four thousand miles before they reached Europe, and 
as many more to return. If the time was sufficient 
the pecuniary consideration would prevent most of 
them from coming every summer. Having journeyed 
so far before reaching the starting point with Euro- 
peans, and not expecting to make such a trip very 
soon again, they are not satisfied with a visit to any 



266 Rough Notes of a Trip 

one country, but must see all they can in the time af- 
forded them. It is all very well for people who can 
go one summer to one place and another to another 
to take their time at each, but unless Americans spend 
their holidays at home they cannot do their pleasure- 
traveling in that leisurely way. My friend was good 
enough to say he had not looked at the matter in that 
light before, and that there was some method in our 
madness after all. 

I have spoken of "the pecuniary consideration." 
It must not be inferred that the expense of a summer 
spent in Europe needs to be very much greater than 
the same length of time spent at Saratoga or any 
other fashionable home watering-place. True, travel- 
ing and personal expenses are apt to be considerably 
larger than some popular Guide-Books estimate; but 
unless the tourist is heedlessly extravagant six or 
seven dollars a day make an abundant provision for 
hotel bills and railway fare. This, of course, does not 
include purchases. For "shopping" no rules can be 
laid down. But, whatever the expense may be, I have 
yet to meet the returned tourist who regrets either 
the time or the money he had spent on such a holiday. 

Shopping in foreign cities: it is of two sorts — to 
shop for one's self, and to shop for one's friends at home. 
In regard to the former, if I were not painfully con- 
scious of how utterly useless it would be, judging 
from my own experience, I should advise all tour- 
ists to eschew that seductive occupation as much as 



To Europe and Bach 267 

possible ; but, in regard to the latter, I have no scru- 
ple at all — my emphatic advice is, like that offered 
by Mr. Punch, " To persons about to marry: — Don't!" 
To oblige a friend is one of the pleasantest things in 
life, and nobody, I trust, can accuse this writer of fail- 
ing to reap that pleasure, both in season and out of 
season — and sometimes beyond all reason, too. I was 
not churlish about executing such commissions abroad 
as certain friends requested of me ; and I am happy 
in the thought that those friends were not only satis- 
fied but gratified at what I did in that way for them. 
But notwithstanding all this, I must candidly say, in 
reference to making purchases for others, that the 
anxiety which the tourist will feel, lest the articles 
should be injured or lost, or should not prove satis- 
factory, is hardly compensated by the pleasure he will 
experience in having obliged a friend, even supposing 
the result does convince him that all his fears had 
been for naught. 

Something too much of this, however. It is more 
agreeable to speak about shopping for one's self. To 
the American in foreign cities the inducements to 
spend money are almost irresistible. The tempta- 
tions of good St. Anthony were nothing in compari- 
son. He sees so many beautiful things that are not 
to be seen at all in his own country — or that he never 
saw, at any rate — and the prices appear so reasonable, 
in many cases, compared with his ideas of their value, 
that the chances are fearfully against the American's 






268 Rough Notes of a Trip 

prudence, and he is likely to buy, not only a great 
many things which he may perhaps want, but an al- 
most equal number of things, also, which he does not 
want. 

I remember a case in point — in fact am not likely 
to forget it as long as time shall last with me. The 
person of whom I speak (I hate to be too personal in 
these cases) wanted to buy a clock — a nice clock, of 
course. He was directed to one of the largest manu- 
factories in the world, and a most bewildering array 
in the immense show rooms was displayed for his ex- 
amination. More clocks than he could count, and all 
handsome, for it was a concern that made only the 
finer kinds. Neat clocks, beautiful clocks, rich clocks, 
classic clocks, gorgeous clocks! Clocks encased in 
marble of all colors, in bronze, in gilt, in crystal, with 
devices the most artistic. It was difficult to select 
from so many, but he did, after much comparison one 
with another, decide upon one which was suitable in 
every way; not too handsome to look out of place 
when it should be at home, and not too expensive 
either. Here he should have rested his case, settled, 
and left the premises. But the polite attendant in- 
sisted upon his inspecting the stock further — es- 
pecially some unfinished works designed for the Great 
Exposition. At last his attention was directed to a 
clock of a peculiarly graceful device, with vases to 
match. He admired the set much — so much, in- 
deed, that he was deaf to the whispers of prudence, 



To Europe and Back. 269 

and bought the rather expensive things instead of the 
more modest article he had at first chosen. 

It had been well enough, perhaps, if the matter had 
ended here ; but the worst is yet to be told. This 
foolish person realized his folly, after having slept 
upon it, and repented. Next day he returned to the 
scene of his temptation, fully resolved to reverse his 
last decision (as the money had not been paid yet) 
and go back to his first choice. Another look at that 
clock satisfied him that it was just what he wanted. 
The polite attendant was as polite as before, and quite 
content to let the fickle purchaser have his way. " But 
will not Monsieur once again look at the other, so 
elegant?" Monsieur did look once again, and that 
look was so long that he once again changed his mind 
and determined to keep the clock, so elegant. But, 
mark the sequel ! On his way out he passed the other 
again — the "sensible clock" as he called it — and 
bought that too ! 

Attempting subsequently to explain this curious 
result of a prudential afterthought, the foolish person 
said it was a Compromise — the only basis upon 
which any great and intricate question, where two 
opposing principles are involved, ever could be settled. 
He bought the elegant clock as a concession to his 
taste, and his admiration for the beautiful and the pro- 
gressive; and then took the sensible one as a conces- 
sion to the conservative and prudent side of his char- 
acter ! 



270 Rough Notes of a Trip 

This story about two clocks, I think, may fitly close 
my disquisition upon "Shopping," as it affords a 
doubly striking example of one danger against which 
I would warn fellow-travelers. 

But to return to the matter of traveling expenses 
in Europe. If a party of four or five persons travel to- 
gether the expense to each will be lessened, and the 
pleasure increased, provided there is a fair degree of 
congeniality between them. The admission fee to 
many places is the same for a single visitor as for a 
party. Carriage hire is a considerable item in the 
tourists' expenses, and that, of course, will be reduced 
by such a combination. But the advantages gained 
by traveling in a party are more apparent at hotels 
than anywhere else. It is pleasant to have friendly 
company at your meals, whether you take them at 
the public table, or in private rooms as is generally 
the case in Europe. If you happen to be in a country 
whose customs and language are unfamiliar, you do 
not feel half so much annoyance at your own blun- 
ders if you can only have the blunders of friends to 
laugh at as well. You can bear one another out, 
as it were, if several are in the same boat. 

But very little trouble, however, is experienced for 
want of the native language in any part of Europe, so 
far as my observation goes. And I heard this view 
corroborated by most of the friends I met abroad. 
This is particularly true of Paris, where you can 
scarcely find a shop or hotel at which English is not 



To Europe and Back. 271 

spoken. I have known people who found this preva- 
lence of the English tongue an objection to Paris. 

"What shall I do in Paris," said I to a lady I met 
in Switzerland, "without a word of French at my 
command?" 

" Oh, you will have no trouble on that score," she 
replied; you w T ill find the people only too ready to 
speak English. I found it too provoking, sometimes, 
when in a shop speaking my best French and getting 
along nicely, as I thought, with the shopman. Just as 
sure as I spoke in English to the friend who was with 
me, the shopman would address me immediately in as 
good English as my own, and give me no chance to 
practice my French after that ! They would not let 
you speak French if you could ! " 

For satisfactory reasons I never tried it on, to be 
sure, but I have no doubt that the lady's illustration 
of the difficulty was a correct one. 

One thing that astonishes the American in Eu- 
rope is the number of his countryman that he continu- 
ally comes in contact with, no matter where he goes. 
I know of no greater pleasure abroad than that of 
meeting friends from home ; and, in fact, many people 
are inclined in a foreign land to regard all fellow-coun- 
trymen as friends. Sometimes this friendliness is 
pleasant — sometimes not. Of course, in countries 
where politeness is more the rule than with us, it be- 
hooves Americans to accept advances from their com- 
patriots graciously ; but a certain degree of caution 



272 Rough Notes of a Trip 

is frequently wholesome and necessary. An instance 
of this occurred with me in Paris. I had just left the 
office of Messrs. Munroe & Co., the great American 
bankers, when a man whom I had noticed with a not 
very favorable impression, followed, overtook and 
stopped me. 

"I beg your pardon, Sir," he said, "but might I ask 
what part of the States you came from ? " 

" You may, Sir," I replied. 

And he did — and then I told him. Whereupon it 
immediately occurred to him that he knew Buffalo 
very well indeed. 

"In fact," he said, "I was there in '36." 

" I was not," I told him. 

After a good deal of beating about the bush — but 
not until my constitutional impatience was beginning 
to get the better of my native politeness — he made 
his object known. 

" The truth is, Sir," he said, " I am in a very un- 
pleasant predicament. I am in need of money to-day, 
and have been expecting a remittance some time. It 
will surely come to-morrow, and the favor I would 
beg " 

"But I fear you will think it strange," he added, 
parenthetically. 

"Not at all," I assured him; "it does not surprise 
me in the least." 

"Well, Sir," he continued, "I wish to borrow a 
trifling sum until to-morrow. Could you oblige me ? 



To Europe and Back. 273 

I will meet you in Munroe's office to-morrow — when 
I shall receive my remittance — and discharge the ob- 
ligation." 

" £fa-fortunately," said I, with a mental reserva- 
tion of the emphasized syllable, " I leave Paris early 
to-morrow morning, and it will be impossible for me, 
therefore, to accommodate you." 

" But," I went on to say, as he was about to vary 
the proposition, " undoubtedly Messrs. Munroe & Co., 
or our Minister, Mr. Bigelow, would be only too 
happy to serve you, if you will state your case to 
them as convincingly as you have to me." 

He evidently saw it was useless to press the matter 
any further, and so we parted, with much mutual po- 
liteness ; he, evincing no trace of suspicion that I dis- 
trusted him — I, satisfied that his feelings were not 
wounded if he was honest, and that I was no victim 
of misplaced confidence if he was not. 

There are many other topics that might be treated 
at considerable length, in this my closing epistle — 
topics interesting chiefly to those who purpose going 
abroad. I made it a rule, however, in writing my 
letters to mention briefly at the time such facts of this 
sort as struck me most forcibly; thus scattering 
through them (though all too rarely, I fear — like 
plums in a poor man's pudding) certain hints and 
suggestions not altogether without value, I would 
fain hope, to such chance readers of that class as those 



274 Rough Notes of a Trip 

letters had, or as this book may find. To take up 
these slightly-touched topics again, though the excuse 
that I have now more room to do them justice might 
be an allowable excuse perhaps, would be only to 
make short stories long, whereas it is a much more 
popular plan to make long stories short; and I am 
thus debarred from speaking about several matters 
that I have been questioned upon, since my return. 

But the gracious reader does not, I am sure, expect 
me to attempt a competition with any Hand-Book in 
giving directions to travelers, and I can therefore rest 
satisfied that sins of omission will be the lightest of- 
fences discovered in these pages. I cheerfully recom- 
mend people who are expecting to make a foreign 
trip, to get all the Hand-Books they can obtain — 
jj" Harper's," "Murray's," " Baedeker's," and others — 
and to get them early, and read them too. It is 
hardly possible but some information will be derived 
from the poorest of them, worth more than the cost 
of the book, and the traveler will soon regard his 
"Guide" as a companion and friend as well. 

My task may be ended in a single closing observa- 
tion : Apart from the new pleasures which the tour- 
ist will realize after he arrives home, as well as 
abroad (for surely my own experience is common 
with that of all other travelers), it appears to me that 
a tour in Europe, be it ever so brief, cannot fail to be 
useful to Americans. They must return home with 
more enlightened views of men and things, and a 



V 



RD- 79. * 



To Europe and Back. 275 

more rational and catholic love of their own country 
and its institutions with less prejudice against other 
countries and people. The beautiful Old World will 
have excited their admiration without diminishing 
their patriotic love for the N"ew. After such an ab- 
sence, also, it seems to me, a man must come home 
with friendships strengthened and renewed, and enmi- 
ties forgotten or forgiven. 



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